Hero
by Bittersweet Romanticide
Summary: Ash's friends and pokemon have been captured by a man who makes worlds with a snap of his fingers - a man that wants Ash to prove he really is a hero. A challenge for each person he saves, and the history of his world begging him to rewrite it.SlightAAML
1. The Hero's Test

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon. Honest.

_Your true value depends entirely  
on what you are compared with.  
_Bob Wells

**The Hero's Test**

Ash could hardly hear himself as he sang, "_Twinkle, twinkle little star._"

The lightning came first, then the thunder, the two not a second apart. The storm was right overhead, the worst part of it slamming onto the Pokémon Center with so much force it was amazing the thing didn't crumble. There wouldn't be any sleeping for Ash Ketchum tonight, not with the wind's screaming sounding so human he had to sing to drown it out. Maybe it would help if he knew other songs than the one or two from his childhood. Maybe it would help if he would just buy a music player.

The lightning flashed again, this time making all the lights and clock and computer flick on and off to accompany the thunder. He could see the room for a moment, all of the room. From the covers his half hid his face in to the desk and computer to the left side. He could see the color of the paint and the sheets. Incredibly enough, he could see all the outside streets lit up for a moment, the earth solid city of Viridian.

In fact, he could even see the person standing by the window.

"_How I wonder what you are,_" he sang, closing his eyes tight and holding back the whimper that hid in the back of his throat.

"Do us all a favor and stop – your voice is horrible."

His voice cut through all the stormy sounds strangely, not quite sounding as if it was in his head, not quite sounding as if it was spoken out loud. The lights were out now, but he had seen him before. He knew the hair cut short, black as black could be with pinpricks of shining white that made it look like the night sky. The skin seemed to move as well, as if it was a layer of plastic covering a swirling, milky liquid. The eyes were too close to normal with their plain green tint, but for the cat-like pupils that were slit sideways rather than vertically.

Ash tried to drown the image out of his head, focusing hard on the childhood melody. "_Up above the world so high_."

"Come now, you don't have to be afraid. I won't hurt you." He turned to the window, looking out at the darkness and the storm. There was another lightning flash, and he frowned at it. "Storms. Damned storms. You don't mind if I turn off the lightning and thunder, do you? It will be such a distraction when we're trying to have a conversation."

He stopped singing for that, drawing up his bravery to sit up slowly, to stare at the black form across the room. "You can't do that."

The man snapped his fingers in response, and the sounds of thunder and lightning and pouring rain halted instantly. Another snap and the lights in the room clicked on, blinding the eighteen year old trainer who grunted and groaned at it, raising an arm to shield himself. Once the effect had faded, Ash lowered his arm. He half expected the other man not to be there anymore. He was, however, leaning against the wall and smiling under the fluorescents.

"The snapping was just to prove it was me. It's all in my mind. I make a wish and off it goes, and it's hardly draining in the least. You see, I'm only messing with _your _head, Mr. Ketchum. Nothing's actually changed. The storm is still going and it's still plenty dark." He smiled and extended his hands to the scene. "But a mind with the power to dream is an incredible thing."

He pushed himself out of the bed, shaking his head forcefully. How did one deal with a villain? Not sitting down. Not in pajamas either, usually, but that couldn't be helped. The enemy had to be faced on as equal ground as possible. One had to show strength and courage and try to speak articulately so the villain knew _exactly _what one was trying to accomplish. He planted his feet solidly on the floor and stood proud. It didn't matter if the man had the power to throw him across the room, probably across the galaxy if he wanted. What mattered was he had to show he was willing to fight, in his unimpressive pajamas.

"Fantastic, you're good and awake now. Would you like to have an adventure, Mr. Ketchum? I promise you it'll be plenty exciting." He smiled an entirely friendly smile, revealing a dimple at either corner of his mouth and teeth that were pointed, locking together like a perfect zipper.

"You're the one who's been stealing people," Ash snarled bravely, clenching his hands into tight fists as he fought the swell of nausea that came from seeing those pointed teeth. "All the hikers and townspeople and my friends and my pokémon! What do you want with them?"

The smile vanished and he sighed, tongue sliding across his lips with an odd crackling sound. "I hate storms. They make me so static." Ash didn't make a response to that, so he sighed once again and explained, "I made an adventure for you, and I knew you wouldn't come unless you got a worthwhile prize from it. So I took your friends, pokémon and human, for you to find."

He spoke firmly, keeping his voice at a speaking tone. He could _reason _with him, maybe. Not rush into things. That's how all of this started, after all, by rushing into things. He would take his friends advice and think about what he said. "People aren't _prizes._ Pokémon aren't _prizes_. You can't just steal them for your own fun and you can't get me involved!" Which sounded well thought out in his head, honestly.

He shrugged. "It's not moral to _you_, perhaps. I'm practically a god, so it's no problem for me to treat people as pawns. Check any religion, you'll find a passage or two about messing with your species in every one. At least I'm nice enough to only do it because I have a reason."

"So what if you have a reason?" Ash argued. "What gives you the right to do it?"

"It's a plain and simple _might makes right_, and, sadly, your sword is terribly outclassed by the nuclear bomb I've got in my armory." He opened his palm and turned it faced up, instantly creating a strange, black twist of matter in his hand. He then smiled again, displaying it proudly. "This is a small black hole, which I can release at any time and make swallow up your solar system, and, given time, your galaxy. These unimaginable powers give me the right."

"You said you were better than other gods because you did it for a reason. But what about everyone else you stole? They wouldn't make as good a prize." He tried again, trying to loosen up his body, make himself persuasive. He focused on Dawn when she was trying to entice a shop owner down to a lower price or, on a good day, free of charge. "Are they for a bonus round of your stupid game?"

"A game!" he cried, horrified, pushing off the wall to stand up straight and closing his hand around the black hole he had just made. "Why do people always say I'm playing _games? _It's an _adventure, _Ash. Just because I created the situation in which is occurs doesn't change that."

"Adventures don't come with prizes," he growled, "especially with your _friends _as a prize."

He sniffed. "Call it what you will, but-"

Shouting now: "The townspeople, the hikers! What'd you do with them if they aren't prizes?"

"It doesn't matter, you twit. For pity's sake, I _ate _them if you must know," he snapped. "I'm no _god_ with infinite powers that come at no price. Actually _creating _things take energy. Do you know how many people I had to eat for that one black hole? _Six _good sized ones, and _ten _large pokémon. It takes quite a lot of energy to make this _game _as you call it! You should thank me for the work I've done for you!"

"I don't want your damn game! I don't want dead people!" he shouted back. "Go back to wherever the hell you came from, give me back my friends and leave me alone!"

He calmed quickly, though his eyes stayed narrow and his lips were pressed thin together and his voice was snippy when he spoke. "Oh, Ash, you'll hurt my feelings. I put _so_ much thought into this. If you really don't want it I'll end it right now."

"Great." He kept his voice steady, thought his heart had suddenly stopped beating. "Do it."

"You won't get your friends back, though. They'll die. Crushed and burned and I can almost hear their little screams now." His voice changed, sounding like a crowd of people and pokémon, each chanting in their own language and tone, "_Save us, Ash, save us!_"

"Don't touch them!"

He ran at the thing, hand sin fists to beat at him with, but he vanished, appearing at the other side of the room, lips pulled back in a grin none too friendly now. "I already have, silly boy. What do you say we start the adventure now? We all know you're going to. You, the infinitely caring and kind Ketchum must want to save your friends. I'd lose all respect for you if you-"

"Respect for _me_!" he cried. "What respect do you have for me? You steal my friends and my pokémon and want to trick me into some stupid game I'll never win! You'll cheat, and then you'll eat every last one of us!"

"Calling me a cheater when you hardly knew me at all! I take offense to that. It's hard, but it's winnable. I'm not out to make you lose. In fact, I _want_ you to win. If I set it all up just for you to fail on the first challenge I'll feel robbed." He paused, and made the offer with a touch of pity, "I want you to win, and I'll give your friends back, and then we'll part like we never met."

He glared. "My friends are all alive, right? I'm not fighting for their bodies."

"You don't eat your own kind. What prize would a corpse be?" he snorted." Of course they're alive."

"And what…" he started, then stopped. Pursuing it meant he was caving in, meant that he had lost. Though, he supposed it didn't much matter now. He wasn't sure how to get out of this one, except to compete. "What are the challenges like?"

"Hard," he hummed merrily.

"Could you be a little more specific?" he asked as patiently as he could, which was much more patiently at eighteen than he was at ten.

"A riddle to retrieve your pokémon and a physical challenge for your friends."

"Could you tell me more?" he said, gritting his teeth.

"I already told you more than enou-"

"Then how many people did you steal?"

"You're such an interrupter, how _rude_," he said, lip curling. "I took _six_ of your little humans and _six _of your little pokémon. _Twelve _of your silly friends in all. I could tell you the civilians if I bothered to keep track. Let's just say it took _plenty _to make this challenge, so you ought to make it worth their deaths."

"You didn't even _know _them. You killed them all and you didn't even _know _them," he whispered. "You stole my friends without knowing them. You're keeping them penned up somewhere, dying, waiting for me to come and save them and…"

He waited for Ash to continue and when he didn't, chirped, "If you're done, I'd like to inform you that Misty fears bugs, Brock loves women, Gary is your rival, May is a coordinator, Max is a know-it-all, and there are simply too many words for Dawn to narrow it down to one." He laughed and clapped his hands together once. "I do know _every_thing about them. All it takes is a glance to find it out." His green eyes fastened on him, the slits widening as they focused in. "All it takes is one little glance."

"Stop _glancing _then," Ash snarled, the hair on the back of his neck bristling.

He giggled. "I'm terrified of your pubescent rage."

"What did I do to-?"

"-Deserve this?" he asked, cocking his head off to one side. "Sorry, but after being interrupted so many times I think it's perfectly fair to have my turn. Not that much else is, especially when I tip the odds so ridiculously. I'm only here because you're so damned special. You showed up time and time again on my radar. I had to make you out for a spin."

"There have been other heroes better than me."

He shrugged again, beginning to pace around the room. "Oh, we'll see about that. The last big one, Bellerophon, I believe it was." He frowned slightly, trying to think back through the ages. "How many years ago? Plenty of time for you. It was when the first gym leaders were established, at least, and just before the first pokémon were bound with humans. I would know that. I had a part in all that."

He swallowed, fear making lumps in his stomach and throat. "What _are_ you?"

"To put it shortly, I'm powerful." He said, creating another small black hole in his hand, only to crush it a moment later.

"Again, could you be a little more specific?"

"No. But I _can _tell you I use that power to test people. People like _you_, Ketchum." He walked close and poked him gently in the chest. "I've tested pokémon, humans, flor-well, you wouldn't know about the bulk of them, but let's just say all the universes have universally decided that I'm the one to deliver aptitude tests to young heroes."

"Well, you got it wrong. I'm not perfect and I never said I was. I know that I have faults and I know I'm not the best so I don't need to prove it. You don't have to test me."

"I don't have to, but it's no bother to me." He bent down, being much taller than Ash, and let his pearly white teeth, the pointed things that locked together like a zipper, shine in front of his eyes. "I love my job not matter how hard it gets."

"You're sick."

"I'm different," he argued. "I'm from places you can't even begin to dream of, seen beasts that would make your stomach turn and others that are much more civilized than your pathetic place. At the very least, I'm always polite, which is more than can be said for you."

"I don't _eat _people. I don't _have _to be polite all the time because _I don't eat people_," he argued back.

"Oh, you should always mind your manners, no matter who you're dealing with." He turned and walked back to the window, leaning against the cool glass once more. "If there's one thing I've learned from being more powerful it's to never sink to their level, Ashy."

"Don't call me-"

"Sorry to interrupt again, my boy, but I'd really like to know whether or not you'd like to go on an adventure."

He sighed, dropping his head to glare at the floor. A voice in the back of his head whispered that losing that eye contact was a sign of weakness, was a sign of submitting. Still, when facing something close to a god, it didn't seem like eye contact would be the defining factor. "If it's the only way to get my friends back, I don't have a choice."

He giggled again, tracing his finger along the window. "You always have a choice."

"Would you quit the semantics? You know what I mean, you know what I want, and you know what the answer it, so just do it! Do whatever it is you're going to do!" he shouted, glaring up at him with burning eyes. "I don't want to talk to you anymore!"

"I have to hear you say it. Tell me you want to go. Come now, Ash, yes or no? Do you want to go on an adventure?"

His throat was getting tight and his eyes were starting to water, he knew. He could feel it, and he hated all those things about being a strong, smart hero that drummed through his head the weaker he became. "If I hadn't saved her, you wouldn't be here now. You would have kept going."

"That's right, Ash. That final, flashing light of stardom drew me close. That heroic act that shined so bright because it didn't really need to be done. You'd risk your life for the smallest cause, you Hercules you." He chuckled. "Do you want to go on an adventure or not?"

"Yes," he growled through his clenched teeth.

"Yes? Yes _what_?"

In and out, heavy breaths, with the old jingle of _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star _flying through the back of his mind. Nothing to do but agree. Nothing to say but agree. No point in delaying it, of course. No point in any of it at all. He should have never–

"Yes, I want to go on an adventure."

He smirked and clapped his hands a final time. "And so it goes, so it goes."

**

* * *

**

"Of course you remember, but what detail is so crucial? It's easy to forget and wouldn't matter anywhere but here. Don't look far, your pokémon Pikachu is right inside," Ash muttered off the sheet of paper he clutched tight in his hands. "Yeah, he better be. At least it didn't _rhyme_."

He wished he could remember how he had ended up there, but he couldn't remember anything past telling the man, whoever the weird man was, _what_ever the weird man was, that he would like to go on an adventure. He was pretty sure that time had passed, and that something had happened, but it slipped through his mental fingers of exactly what it had been. He gave it one more shot, flicking through the possibilities of walking, driving, flying, teleporting, and none of them ran a bell. Leaving him to shrug it off.

He focused on where he was instead. It was Oak's lab, the scene as it always was. The stairs were big and the air was sweet, though no one else was around them. He bet there wouldn't be anyone if he went looking for them. It felt real, that was for sure, but he sincerely doubted it was more than a good fake. Not even when he swore he could smell his mother's fresh baked goods from down the way. She baked like that when she was worried, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for his mother, to tell her he was fine and there was no reason to bake because he was going to make it better.

It was only a tug, however, and just a few moments later he had shook it off and continued his trek up the stairs. He knocked at the door, not expecting an answer – which he didn't get – and continued in. Through the rooms up the stairs to the lab he went, to where he met his first pokémon. Nothing tricky about the lab either, however all was as he remembered it. Swinging lights above, blue tile, humming equipment lined around the edge and only a desk and a metal pillar in the center to fill up the empty space. All three pokeballs were sitting where he remembered. Once of them had to be holding Pikachu, and he had to get him out quick. He wouldn't like being trapped in there.

The one on the left was hers – the lightning bolt mark. That was clear. The other two were plain. That was a small detail, wasn't it? He grinned to himself, realizing this would be easier than he imagined. Being Ash, the thought never crossed his mind that something could be wrong, or, at least, he didn't until the pokeball's smooth, cool metal surface was in his hand. Half tinted white, half tinted red, a small yellow lightning bolt on the front. It was Pikachu's specially made. The bolt wasn't painted on, paint would wear off quick, and it could never look as good. Only a special paint, the kind they made only the factories, could have done it.

"Come out, Pikachu!" he cried, stretching his arm out and clicking the center button.

And, as per his luck that week, absolutely nothing happened.

"Of course not," he muttered to himself bringing the ball back to him. He stared at it for a moment, then put it back in its place with a nod. "That'd be too easy. It has to be something trickier. He said it'd be hard so…so…" He returned to the pokeball, lifting it up again to weigh it in his hand. "Probably…probably…"

He trailed off and sat down, glaring at the ball in his hand with outright fury. For some reason, it seemed like picking it up again should have helped. So, he tried something else he felt would help, but knew probably wouldn't: He threw it across the room with a scream, watching it hit the wall and, miraculously, opened. And then, much to his despair, no Pikachu appeared. The ball had been empty to begin with. To make it ironic, the thing was a music box, one that now played _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_. He screamed again and buried his head in his hands.

"What the hell did I do? What'd I _do_?" he complained. "I've been at it all week! You just keep screwing with me and all my friends and we can't take it!"

He grabbed the closet thing, a desk, but the empty thing was bolted down. He couldn't throw that, no matter how hard he tried. He fell back on the floor again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes that still stung with the tears he wasn't willing to cry. He was sure the boy would be watching. He had said he wanted it to be fun for him, that he wanted to see him do it. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Not even if he hated himself right now.

"Give him back. Please. I'll give _anything _to you if you just give him back to me." His voice cracked, and he pressed against his eyes harder.

The girl was the problem, that last act of heroism. If he hadn't saved her, he wouldn't be in the horrible situation he had gotten into. None of his friends would have been snatched, he wouldn't be without Pikachu. If he had just let her go. She wasn't pretty, anyway, not cute at all. And she was a little kid too. There weren't really a lot of ugly five year olds. They were all cute around that age. She was one of the rare ugly ones. Her eyes were small and her face was pinched and she was staring, not at him, but beyond him. How thankful to her rescuer. She didn't need him and she wasn't worth it and he should have let-

"No," he whispered, kicking the bolted down desk to try and bring himself back. "I did the right thing."

Maybe he'd done the right thing. There were a lot of firemen there, after all. A the main gasoline pipeline for the town had busted, which, as they could clean it up within a couple of days, shouldn't have been a problem. Then the storm rolled in, with lightning and thunder and the works. Most people thought it was fun to begin with, the oil and the rain making everyone slip and laugh at the weird feeling of being wet and oily. He and Brock and Dawn had stopped by for the clean up too. They were enjoying themselves.

Quite a few fires started after that, and the rain didn't do much good to put them out. The clean-up crews were hosed down and told them to go to the fireproof centers set up around the city. The trio hadn't. As long as they kept on the outskirts of town, they'd be fine. There wasn't any fire anywhere else in the rocky area. They weren't the only ones to stay out either. It was hard to keep in one place with all the excitement, especially when the bulk of them were trainers and travelers who were itching to help with their high levels of adrenaline.

Where they were standing was a bridge. It wasn't a rickety old wooden bridge either. It was a good, sturdy bridge crafted from strong metal and grounded in meters of cement. It was nice and wide, and though it hung over a pretty deep cliff and some pretty dangerous white water, there was no chance of flooding or swaying or somehow sliding through the bottom. Unless you jumped, there wasn't any way off. Nobody there was planning on jumping, but somebody was going to find a way to fall. Things were never foolproof. When they built it, they just hadn't met anyone dumb enough to test the limits.

That girl, that ugly little five year old, had climbed up on it and had leaned too far. Everyone knew, everyone saw just a moment too late. A woman had already started shrieking. There was always a woman shrieking when something bad happened, he observed. His feet had already started going for her. And his heart was already pounding. Looking back, he couldn't help but wonder why his body pumping out adrenaline was so thrilling. He had saved plenty of people before, people he knew much better than this little girl, so it wasn't new. He had saved the world before, so it wasn't a challenge. It shouldn't have sent him into hero mode. It shouldn't have been so terrifyingly exciting to run out to her, to save her. That was his excuse. His first excuse of why he shouldn't have. It didn't change that he had, though.

"Pika, pikachu, where are you?" he hummed, trying to calm himself down, getting up and pacing around the lab.

The paper had said not to go too far. At least, he hoped that's what it meant and it wasn't some weird word game. He sucked at riddles. If Misty or Brock were here they could have helped him, even May or Dawn or Max would be better than him alone. And if Pikachu were there…well, he wouldn't be solving this stupid riddle. And he wouldn't feel like someone had cut off his right arm, either, or like somebody had ripped out his heart or put a bunch of nails in his stomach, or any other bad thing he could think of.

He leaned against a machine, letting his head rest against the warm metal as he glared up at the ceiling. "Pikachu was always the one with a lightning bolt on it. That was his pokeball. I remember. I clean it every day. He has to be in here. It makes _sense_."

He walked back to the pillar and opened the other two thoughtlessly, having no doubt he wouldn't be in either of the others. If all he had to do was open them until he found him, that wouldn't make any sense. What kind of riddle just let you guess two or three times out of two or three options until you got it right? No, riddles were tricky. Riddles couldn't be solved when you were slow. He didn't have a chance. Pikachu was a goner. Going to die. The monster upstairs was going to eat his friends. All of it was his fault, because he was too stupid to solve the first riddle.

"You said I could do this, liar. You said you wanted me to win. How the hell am I supposed to win like this?" He gave the pillar a solid kick. "You know me. You know everything. You have to know I can't do this! You know I'm not cut out to be a hero or a master or even a trainer!" he shouted, the stopped, breathing heavy in the empty room, eyes wide as he searched around.

"No. No, don't be stupid. No, you _knew_ I could do it. You want me to get to the last level, at least. You thought I could or else you wouldn't have done all this. You don't have any reason to lie. You're really strong. You can do what you want. It makes perfect sense that you would just…"

He stopped, then laughed. "I've got to get Pikachu and talk to someone besides myself. I'm going crazy."

_Of course you remember,_ _but what detail is so crucial?_

What did he remember about the lab? About getting Pikachu? Nothing, really. Nothing at all. There was nothing that was different about him that differed from all the other kids getting their pokémon. Except that he was the only one who got a Pikachu. The others got the typical starters. He didn't. He was special. He was so special that he found himself in the stupid _mess _and he just couldn't _take_-

"You're okay," he mumbled, shoving his hands under his hat to rub at his hair. "You're alright, Ash. You just have to remember and find Pikachu. Then you'll have someone to talk to and you won't be crazy."

_It's easy to forget and wouldn't matter anywhere but here._

Pikachu being his mattered. Nothing would be the same if he had gotten any of the other starters. Those were important. Everything was important, if you wanted to think of the Butterfly Effect. That was the wrong was to go, probably. What else? He was late. He smiled to himself. He didn't intend to be late, this time. He had been late for other things on purpose. But what'd being late matter? Except that it got him Pikachu and not anyone else.

He had always been told to retrace his steps when he was trying to remember things. He had never done it before, since he never needed it to. He always ripped through the house or the campsite or his backpack to find things. He always found it when he did that, never any problem with it. Wouldn't work here. He couldn't rip the lab apart. Everything was bolted down or way too heavy to move. So, retracing his steps had to be worth something.

He strode outside and down the steps, bringing up the memory as best he could and, hitting a mental fast forward button, skimmed through the scene while acting it out, albeit an abridged version.

"Hey, Professor Oak," he said to the imaginary man. His made his voice higher, and squeakier, a bad attempt at a ten year old self, and put a hug smile on his face that he couldn't really remember wearing. "Yeah, I _am_ late and I am in my pajamas. I _would_ like a pokémon thank you. Let's head upstairs to discuss this more thoroughly." He then proceeded to walk back the way he came, all the while muttering, "I think I've already gone crazy."

Soon he was back inside the lab and, after another quick inspection of both the place and his memory, he went back to the stand where the pokeballs were held. "I'd like a bulbasaur. Oh, you don't have one? That's alright, I'll catch one in the hidden village. Charmander then. Oh, you're out of that too? It's alright. I'll get it from an abusive prick who abandons it. I'll take squirtle. Crap, _that's _gone? That's alright. I'll get one that's a mob boss." He rolled his eyes. "Even if that's not in order, it's close enough."

He sighed, feeling stupid though he had done much dumber things before and there was no one around to witness the stupid thing he was doing now. "Then I whined about how I really wanted a pokémon and he…he…"

His eyes widened with more hope than he really wanted to have. _This _seemed like a little detail too. He tapped the little button that opened the center panel, the one where Pikachu had originally been kept. There was the pokeball. With a lightning bolt on it. His hands shook with more excitement as he reached for it, closed around it and brought it close to his face. It looked real, but so had the other one. If nothing else, he should put it down and remind himself not to be so hopeful. He should remember that this probably wasn't a game he could win, and it was probably all an illusion.

He didn't. He simply shut his eyes tight, crossed his fingers, and pressed the button. He heard the sound, at least. That was enough to make his heart stop and his legs shake. Something had to be in it, but that didn't matter much. That didn't make is Pikachu. That just made it something. He half expected to open his eyes and find a piece of paper proclaiming, "Gary was here; Ash is a loser."

If it wasn't Pikachu, the stupid thing could eat him. He didn't care anymore.

"Pikapi?" he asked, his head cocking to the side at the boy who should have been hugging him tight and making him feel better after being trapped inside the cage for so long.

Ash almost felt like crying, however, opening his eyes to see the mouse staring up at him, more lovingly than he could have imagined. He leapt forward, scooping him up in his arms, while the little one stretched up to nuzzle his face. He was crying now, and he didn't care. He had Pikachu back. His pikachu. The first challenge was done and, if nothing else, he wasn't alone anymore.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, hugging him tight.

The electric type huddled closer, sighing happily, and repeated, "Pikapi."

**

* * *

**

Well, _I_ enjoyed it. It's probably better off in the hands of a competent writer, instead of someone who's only got a sarcastic voice for mildly funny comedy. It's always hard to tell how these will turn out.I never know how much to tell the reader in the first chapter to keep them interested.

If you enjoyed, let me know. If you think it sucks and I ought to fling myself off the nearest cliff for bothering to publish this, feel free to tell me that too. I'm a big girl. I can handle the criticism.

I hope you had a happy holiday!


	2. The First Physical Challenge

Sorry for the major delay. Exams, family, schedule, all the usual craziness, you know how it goes.

_Insults should be well avenged,  
or well endured.  
- Scottish Proverb_

**The First Physical Challenge**

After a few minutes of hugging, Pikachu began to squirm. He'd been trapped in his pokeball long enough, and wasn't keen on anything else holding him captive. So, with a bit of a grumble, Ash reluctantly let him go to stretch and wander the floor. His master followed suit, jumping up, stretching, and searching the room for some kind of hint of where to go next. But there were no pieces of paper, no surprise teleportation, no hidden words or secret messages that he could find.

He had gotten back Pikachu, though. Even if he didn't know what to do, he had Pikachu, _his _pikachu, and he would know if it wasn't _his _pikachu. He was sure he would.

The mouse in question jumped onto the stand where the pokeballs has been held, and Ash petted his head gently, lowering himself down to Pikachu's eye level. "Alright, buddy," he murmured. "Where do we go from here?"

The mouse muttered something that was echoed by his stomach rumbling and a hopeful look up. Ash laughed in return and stretched out his arm, and once Pikachu was on his shoulder he headed out the door.

"I know, buddy. Just because the pokeball keeps you alive doesn't mean it feeds you, right? We'll get you some stuff," he said as he jogged down the stairs and out the front door. The scenery was the same as before, still in Pallet Town, so after some careful speculation he decided, "I don't know where Oak keeps the food, so we'll see if this crazy place stocked up the pantry at home."

"Pika," he argued doubtfully.

Ash shrugged, taking the steps down to the road two at a time. "If there isn't any pokémon food, you can live of people junk. You've done that before. Besides, if I can live off your nasty Pikachu food for a week when _I _ran out of _real _food, you can stand a meal or two of string beans and chili."

He set off down the dusty path at a stroll, taking it all a little slower now that he had his faithful companion at his side. He could relax a bit now and take in his surroundings, which seemed real enough. The dirt made little clouds behind him, the wind made each blade of grass wiggle in the same direction. Clouds floated in a bright blue sky, the sun burned like it should, and he could even hear the sounds of life somewhere out in the grass. It was just like the real Pallet Town, except it wasn't. It was almost better, in a way.

He had found Pikachu in this place, not lost him.

That disappearance had been the most discreet of them all. They hadn't noticed it for quite some time. After all, the rat could be allowed some independence. He wasn't always tied to Ash's side. He had scratched at the door and Ash had let him out, telling him to be back for dinner. But time passed and the mouse stayed missing. He was _always_ back in time for meals. Still, weirder things had happened. They assumed Pikachu had gotten caught up in something, and Ash had stayed up all night waiting for him to come back.

By morning, they knew something was wrong. They thought about falling trees, Team Rocket, mistaken trainers eager to try and catch a rare pikachu, but had all their answers handed to them when the star haired man appeared. He was smiling and, creepy as he was, they did their best to be friendly. A few minutes later, once the pleasantries were out of the way, he explained to Ash that he had his pikachu, and that it was only the beginning. One more polite handshake while they gawked in stunned silence, a nice-to-meet-you, and he was gone.

"But you're alright now," Ash promised. "He won't get you again."

"Pi_ka_chu!" He pushed the red spot of his cheek into his owner's, sparking gently, then leapt from his shoulder and scrambled down the path as the house came into view.

Ash chased after him, shouting, "Slow down! It's not like you've never been here before!" But even he picked up the speed as he realized the smell of hot pastries and food was getting stronger the closer he came. He grabbed the door handle, not noticing Pikachu had stopped a foot away or so from the door, his fur puffed and a deep growl coming from his throat, and threw it open.

There was his mother, back bent as she toiled over the flaming kitchen stove, the stair haired man's smiling face at the kitchen table.

He ran across the house to her, throwing his body between the two of them, pushing her into the stove so that, in her surprise, she nearly bent too far forward and burned herself in the pot. She managed to stop just quick enough to keep her nose out of the boiling sauce, though Ash paid no mind as he focused on the much more dangerous threat across the room. "Mom! Keep away from him!"

"Isn't this one of your little friends, Ash?" She beamed and turned around to hug him tight. "I'm so happy you're home!"

He broke away from her, taking her wrist to guide her farther away from the table. "Mom, _stop_!" He pointed back to the man. "This is the guy who's been stealing everyone! He eats people!"

"Well, that's not very nice, now, is it? But I'm so happy you're home!" She threw her hands up in the air delightedly, then brought them together over her heart. "Oh, Ash, aren't you glad to see me and the food I made you? I bet you're hungry, sweetie. You're always hungry, aren't you?"

"Mom, he…he _eats _people," he said weakly, glancing back at him. "He's the one who-" He glanced back at her "-what's _wrong _with you?"

The man coughed a clearly fake cough and explained, "She's not really your mom. I made her."

Ash glared, putting himself once more between his mother and him. "What do you mean? I thought you said you weren't a god."

"I'm not," he confirmed, then picked up a glass of orange juice and began to drink.

Ash's mouth opened and closed, his eyebrows knitting tight together while he tried to work it out. His only theory was that, perhaps, his mother was a hologram or a robot, but she didn't feel like either. So, after a good couple minutes of thinking (during which the man finally finished his juice and began to play with the glass), he looked back and argued, "But you said you made her. Only gods make living stuff."

"Plenty of civilizations can make life. _You _ran into a man who did. Remember? Porygon? It could come into the real world."

"Yeah, I guess, but…but not…" He swallowed. "…not _people_."

He hummed happily, tilting the glass and giving it a spin, so that it rolled around on an edge until he snatched it up again. "Secret labs and underground warehouses. You'd be amazed at the things you can make from scratch. All it takes is sugar and spice and everything nice. That's what big girls are made of. I mixed them up and got your lovely mother, the _perfect_ mother, actually."

He relaxed a bit. "But not my _real_ mother."

"No. Your real mother is in Pallet, but that doesn't mean this one isn't real. She's programmed to love you and feed you. She's not too bright, but don't worry. Her food is fantastic. You should have had her roast beef earlier." He kissed the fingers he pinched to his lips, then opened the hand in a flash. "It was fantastic. I've eaten things all across the universe and that was one of the best."

"Why'd you make her?" he demanded.

He raised an eyebrow. "If you don't want her, if a nice person to cook for you and love you isn't a nice surprise, I can take her back. You can figure out how to feed yourself."

His mouth opened and shut once more, before he strode over to the counter where rows of food sat, and picked out a thick sandwich and a red velvet cupcake. He slammed the plates on the table, and picked up one of the triangle pieces of the sandwich, biting into it hard. It crunched for a dramatic effect, as it was stacked with potato chips and pickles between the ham and mayonnaise and mustard.

The man eyed the sandwich and stated, "I like squares."

"Shut up," he said, pieces of food splattering on the table. "Why are you here?"

He rolled the empty glass back and forth. "Well, I thought you would come here before you rescued your first friend. Then I'd be able to give you a nice introduction to what you'd be facing. I guess you did fine enough without it." His laughed and shook his head. "Ah, right. That reminds me – congratulations on passing the easiest level in the same time it would take a retarded slowpoke."

"Thanks for the compliment." He walked across the kitchen and ripped open the fridge door, grabbing a liter bottle of orange soda. "Why'd you think I'd come here first?"

"You should have smelled the food. I thought you were driven more by hunger than you actually are." He shrugged. "Oops."

He smirked to himself, twisting open the bottle to drink. "So you can be wrong."

"Yes, I'm not omniscient," he agreed. "But, what I was going to tell was that there are checkpoints. I'll be standing at them, and if you reach one, you'll know you've gone too far. I'll let you pass me, but you can't come back. That means you skip the challenge."

He twisted the cap back on the soda slowly, continuing back to the table. "And my friend dies."

"Oh, gee, have I become predictable?" he sighed, propping his head up on his hands.

"So, should I stock up on food? I don't want to live off berries."

"This area can be an exception. You can come back to it any time and get a good meal." He slid his elbows out so his head dropped to the table, resting on his hands. His eyes rolled up to look at Ash as he sat down at the table, setting the soda down a bit away from him. Just as he had picked up another triangle of his sandwich, the man continued, "Keep in mind that this world is an exact replica, minus the people and plenty of pokémon."

He blinked. "What?"

He lifted a hand to twirl a finger in the fair. "This _whole_ world is built to scale. It'll take days to get back here."

"Great, I get to run around a giant world solving riddles and killing monsters. It's all my wildest dreams come true. Anything else I should know?" He shoved the sandwich into his mouth violently, then did his best to hide the gag brought about by shoving too much in at once.

"Your friends are where you first met them."

He frowned. "Shouldn't Gary be in Pallet then? I met him here, didn't I?"

"You met each other long before you had any memory. That's not very fair."

He snorted. "I think it'd be fair to just give me my friends back and go home."

"I'll give away that he's at the Plateau," the man continued, "where he first decided to become a researcher."

"If Gary's at the Plateau, Misty's next. Depending…" He paused to think. "Either Brock or Gary would go next, since they're both about the same distance away. But how am I supposed to get to other regions?"

"Get a map." He shrugged. "I've left you what you'll need. You'll get more information at the next check point. Have fun with your first physical challenge."

He grunted, focusing back on his sandwich. A glance up proved he had vanished. No more questions now. A finger darted out to slide down the cupcake's frosting, and he brought it back to his lips for a taste. He decided that his real mom made better cupcakes, and this cupcake was _too _sweet. He grabbed up the desert, stretched out his arm, and gave a little whistle. Pikachu perked his ears up and trotted over to his extended hand, licking the extended cupcake happily.

"Fill up on what you can. I don't know when we're going to have really good meals again. Not until we get Brock back to cook for us, or a pokémon to fly us back." His eyes widened and he slammed his free hand onto the table._ "Damn _it, we won't get any pokémon until Sinnoh."

The mouse stopped licking to look up at him.

"The pokémon he got from me were all my Sinnoh pokémon. I met them _there._" He sighed, then took another bite from his sandwich."But it's not like I can skip everyone in all the other regions and go straight to Sinnoh. I need a plane to get me there. Or something can fly, but all those are _in _Sinnoh. Maybe I can catch something. It sounded like there was something living out there."

"_Pi_ka." The mouse jumped to the floor and walked a few paces to the door before looking back over his shoulder hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah. Let me just finish my sandwich and say goodbye to my mom." He looked back at the woman, still happily fixing soups and salads and delicious treats he could never hope to finish, then looked down at his food. "Just let me finish my sandwich."

**

* * *

**

"At least we're not being chased by spearrow," he chirped, "and I bet you anything this is a shortcut to the next town. I mean, it's got to be. Sure, we're walking the opposite way, but how fast did we get there last time? A lot quicker than any other time."

"Pika." His ears went horizontal, each pointing in the opposite direction of the other.

He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We did have a bike, didn't we?"

"Pi."

"So…do you think she's forgotten about the whole you'll-die-alone-you-bitch-thing?" Ash asked hopefully, sliding his eyes over.

"Chu," it muttered.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough."

And on he walked, Pikachu on his shoulder, towards where he first met Misty. He had a pretty decent idea of where it was, but managed to get a little lost along the way. Once he got his bearings straight, he found himself walking right alongside the small river that led to the waterfall he jumped off. Honestly, he didn't know if he was right until he saw the stereotypical steel bar cage with a passed out girl sitting near the roar of the waterfall.

He ran the final few feet and slid down next to the cage. She hadn't been happy about being trapped, with almost every available inch of her covered in bruises and swollen. He consoled himself with a positive _at least she's not bleeding_, before the thought was replaced with the question of whether dead people bled. He reached through the bars and shook her shoulder, holding his breath. She groaned a bit, and with that encouragement he shook her a little harder, calling her name quickly.

She curled up tighter, screwing her eyes shut. "Are the bugs still there?"

"What bugs?"

"The river," she said, starting to shake. "Mew, Ash, please tell me they're gone."

The sound of the river changed, and when he glanced back he realized just what had driven her to beat herself so badly against the bars. The river clicked and buzzed with millions of bug bodies swarming over one another, moving southward and toppling down like a waterfall, pooling in the lake below. Briefly, one would fly up above and zoom along, then dive down into the swarm a few moments later. He pulled a face – not scary to him but certainly not pleasant.

"I have to go in it, don't I?" he moaned, "I'm supposed to get the key to your cage."

"It's on the pillar."

"There's no-"

"He told me to tell you it's on the mewdamned pillar and you have to swim through the damned bugs to get to the damned pillar to get the damned key." She snapped, heels of her hands pressing against her eyes so hard he was sure it had to hurt.

He stared at the cage. "How heavy is it? Can I move you?"

"You can't drag me to the next town and hope the cage'll pop open."

"A lot of the bugs bounce outside the river. I'm trying to move you far enough away so they won't touch you. If you freak out and knock yourself out I won't be able to get you out of here until you wake up. How _heavy_ is it, so I know whether to make some stupid pulley system."

She didn't reply, so he went to a corner, gripped the bars and pulled back hard. It moved, but it screamed as it slid against the rock. When he moved it far enough, he let it go and gave another pat to Pikachu's head. "Be a bug zapper if they get too close. You're not going to help me any down there."

He gave a big sigh, walked to the edge and peered over. There was definitely a tall pillar there, in the middle of the lake. He couldn't see the key, though. He tried squinting his eyes and leaning forward, but that didn't help much either. He walked back and forth, hoping for a better view of what waited for him at the top, but nothing helped. Eventually, he couldn't think of any other way but to take a few steps back and charge off the edge.

And he was just about to do that when Misty gave a sudden cry of "Ash!" and he spun around, half expecting some weird wave of bugs coming to crush him, but there wasn't. Just her. "Plug your nose and ears if you go under. They'll crawl inside and bite you and lay eggs that'll hatch and eat you from the inside out if you don't."

"Thanks," he said, then muttered, "a little more graphic then I needed, but not bad advice."

He put his thumbs to his nose and index fingers in his ears, then jumped down.

It wasn't as soft a landing as it would have been in water, but his momentum had been a bit gradually slowed as he crushed the things beneath him. More of them swarmed to fill the places of the ones he had crushed. He kicked his legs, hoping he could swim through them, but that didn't work. His heart sped up a bit, panicking. He couldn't take his hands from his face, couldn't open his eyes, not with the creatures swarming and buzzing around him, so loud he could hear it clearly before his closed ears.

He thrashed, and to his luck, managed to move a little higher, enough to get the tip of his hand out. He flung out his hands and slammed them onto the surface layer, trying to get up. They pushed and crawled prickly legs across his hand, under his clothes. He hardly noticed. It was the adrenaline kicking in now. He lifted his foot and pushed down, bringing his whole head above the mass, and breathing deep. The pillar was a few feet away, and he went for it, stomping the bugs down and opposite the way he wanted to go. Each step didn't move him very far, there wasn't enough resistance for that, but it was something.

Step by step, he plodded through, closer to the pillar. At times, the bugs would shift in a way he hadn't expected, and he would plunge under once again, his face slamming into the nasty mess before yanking back out fast, where he would have to pause to pull them off and crush them between his fingers. He finally reached it, panting and gripping the stone with ever reddening hands.

"Bee sting," he muttered, touching his cheek and wincing when it hurt. He glanced at his hands and his body still below. "Lots of bee stings. Bet you can die from that."

His eyes roamed over the stone, finally seeing handholds. Tiny, bug infested hand holds. He reached up and brushed them out, then put his fingers inside. It reached the middle joint on his middle finger, and even dipped down inside for a better grip.

"_This_ is the part you make easy?" he demanded. "I'd rather swim through pudding and get to a pillar made out of spikes." He stretched a hand up to the second, brushed out the bugs and put his hand inside. He hauled up, feeding a foothold just below the bugs to stand on while he brushed out the next one. There was a gap in the holes, from below the bugs to his current hands.

"Thank Mew I've had practice," he breathed, sucking in air, then shoved off to the next handhold, more to the right, and pulled himself out. One leg slammed into the hold his hand had been in, leaving him awkwardly curled up, but out of the swarm. He eyed a handhold a little higher, and aimed. He straightened fast and grabbed it, wincing again at the bugs crushing under his palm.

The oddly spaced hand holds spaced out to only four more to the top, at most. He bet there probably wouldn't be that many. He brought his left foot to another one of the handholds, making one leg bend up tight and the other one nearly useless, since it was in a hole already too far down to be much help. He went for the next hold, another jump and grab, but got more than crushed bugs. Something gooey and sticky. He couldn't check it, with most of his weight on that hand. If he let go, there he went, so he hoped there wasn't poison and looked up once more. Another foot, he leapt up and put his hand in, meeting the same sticky goo. He yanked his other handout and put it to his face, smelling it carefully.

He licked it off his finger, then laughed with relief. "It's honey."

He continued up two more, each filled with honey, until the top was in reach and he could finally peak over the edge. He did so, jamming both his feet into one hole so he had a good place to stand and look over.

"Oh, _shit_," he groaned. There was a beehive, buzzing with a note stuck and blotchy from the honey that explained the key was just inside. He glared at it for a moment, and then, defeated, hauled himself up so he could sit next to it and prepare for the horrible onslaught of bee stings that would come from trying to open it up. He didn't get much time to think, as he bees considered this too close and rushed out to defend their home.

He swatted at them to no avail, and finally squinted his eyes half-open to grab the hive and slam it down on the stone. More bees came out, swarming around his and digging their stingers in again and again. He slammed it down once more, and this time it split. His hands dug into the crack and ripped it open, searching through the thick, gooey mess of honeycomb until his hand gripped the hard metal of what he hoped was the key. He flung himself off the tower, back into the swarm, as they hurt less and he bet you could die from beestings.

He landed in water, soothing, comforting, hurt-a-hell-of-a-lot-to-land-in-back-first-but-better-than-bugs water. He stayed under for a moment, feeling his bites soothed by the cold, then popped up for air. The bees weren't gone, and they dove down at him in a buzzing black cloud. He swam back under, and the bees swerved up at the last moment, a few of them falling in the water and spinning in circles on the surface tension. He swam as quick as he could, coming up quick (and often, now that he was a bit out of breath from all the running around) and diving back down quicker. He was caught by one or two, until he reached the shore. He jumped out, groaning aloud when he realized he didn't have a chance now that he had to climb back up with the bees hot on his tail, when he heard a loud, "Chuu!"

The electricity streaked out behind him, circling the swarm, which dropped to the water dead. Ash glanced back up to see Pikachu standing proudly at the top, tail flashing back and forth, seeming to brag that Ash had been wrong about needing him. He leaned against the rock, breathing deeply, then started the climb. This one was harder to hold onto, with the water pounding down on one side and the rocks slick and smoothed by the pounding spray. But he had rock climbed before and made it up without too much trouble.

Once he had flopped over the edge and caught his breath once more, he wiped the key on his shirt to take off the honey and put it in the lock, hoped, and turned the key. It clicked open with hardly any resistance, and Misty had shoved the door open and gotten to her feet the second she heard the tumblers tumble into place. She stretched her legs and arms and sighed with relief, lolling her head back to the sky.

"You're welcome," he said under his breath.

"I wouldn't have been in his mess if it wasn't for you," she retorted. "What should I thank _you_ for?"

His eyes widened and his mouth hung open stupidly. "I could have skipped you. This wasn't exactly _fun_ for me. I could have just left you here!"

"Right, just like you _could_ have let that girl fall off the cliff," she said, twisting her head back at him with her very best glare.

He gulped. "How'd you know? You weren't-"

"He told me. He _showed_ me. Don't even try to go there, Ash. I know everything about what happened so don't think you can lie to me and get out of it." She flexed her stiff fingers, face softening into a much more condescending look. "Besides, you got out of it without a scratch. It didn't cause you any trouble."

"Without a scratch? Look at me!" he shouted.

He held out his arms for her inspection, and she stared at them, her eyebrow arching in a clear, "what is it I'm supposed to be looking at?" gesture. He held them up to his face and found them smooth and healthy, realizing that he didn't feel any pain at all now. His hands swept over his skin, hardly breathing as he found everything perfect, with only a bit of dirt to be bothered with. Another moment passed and he realized he wasn't wet.

She crossed her arms, careful with her hands, and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, one hell of a challenge to rescue me."

"He must have healed me when I finished the challenge," he said slowly.

"Then why am I still beat up?" she snapped.

"Maybe he doesn't like you," he snapped back, "how should I know? Misty, I just dived into water and I'm not even _wet_, and the water I jumped into was made out of bugs five minutes ago. You're in some weird alternate universe, and _your_ biggest problem is that my _bites got fixed_."

She glared for a moment, lost for words, then muttered a rough, "Screw you," and set off in the other direction.

"What are you doing?"

"Going home," she called out without looking back. "I'm going to get my pokémon and be prepared in case that asshole shows up again."

He barked out a laugh. "Oh? Really? How the hell are you going to get home? This isn't _our _world."

She froze, wavering on the spot before saying, "Shut _up_."

"No, really. It's not our world. It's a whole new world he made just to screw with me." He laughed again as she turned to fully look at him, and stood a little taller. "If you go home you won't find any of your pokémon, your sisters, townspeople, anything. There's nothing here. I don't even know if there really is anything living here or if that's just another trick. If I go and try to find them they'll probably vanish, just like the bugs."

She crossed her arms, bouncing a bit. "Then what am I still doing here? You saved me, didn't you? How do I get to go home?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "We have to go to the next checkpoint. You can ask him there."

She rolled her eyes. "And you think he'll really let me home?"

"He might. It's worth a shot. I already saved you so…" He cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed at the back of his neck once more, something that Pikachu took to be a sign for him to jump up onto his shoulder again. "So you should get to go home."

He swallowed down the urge to beg her not to go, or even ask how she could get there, because he didn't want to go back to being alone, and because he didn't trust him to send her back and not just throw her into some hellish dimension. He fought the urge to yell at her for being the same selfish, uncaring, heartless bitch she was whenever she got upset. Instead, he walked past her and listened closely for her footsteps behind him. He heard them, and, with a sigh of relief, he reached up to rub one of Pikachu's long ears before he carried on.

The road there was pretty easy. There weren't any challenges along the way, and though he still didn't have anyone to talk to (because, though she definitely had the ability, she did not want to speak with _him_ at the moment). He nearly got lost on the way, but she snagged him by the shoulder and muttered that Route 1 was in the other direction, if that was where he intended to go. From there on, it was a good two hour walk to the checkpoint, which was just inside Viridian.

He was leaning against the pole that led up to the loudspeaker, invisible behind the small police booth. Ash hadn't seen him before he came around the corner, and jumped in front of Misty protectively. She elbowed him in the ribs and stepped to the side of him, staring at the man pretty calmly considering everything she had been through. Ash blinked at her, wondering why she hadn't rushed up to hit him by now.

There was a pregnant silence, and Ash attempted to stimulate it into labor with a nervous, "I saved-"

"When can I go home?" she asked, cutting him off sharply.

"Later," he said with a smile. "That'll come up later. Besides, you're too _frustrated_ right now to make a straight decision. Maybe after you've calmed down a bit I'll let you have that choice."

She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, her back straighten and chest puff. One daring step forward, and she snarled, "I know when I'm too frustrated to think straight and I'm plenty calm enough. I'm _perfectly _in my right mi-"

"Mmm, the policemen didn't believe it and I don't either." He laughed, looking back at Ash. "So, how close have you two been since you found out what happened back in Cerulean? I bet that shook things up."

She balled her throbbing hands into fists. "An accident happened in Cerulean, and nobody knows what the hell went wrong."

He clucked his tongue. "_You_ know what the hell went wrong."

"I have no _idea _what went wrong!"

Ash cleared his throat. "Um, weren't you supposed to fill me in some more?"

"Gym leader," he snorted, ignoring the boy completely. "I made you what you are, you uneducated dope. After how I helped you all, and this is the thanks I get. Everything this nation has become, the fame and skill your family possesses, it's thanks to me. I know things can get lost over time, but with what I did? My name should be immortalized in your history books, or the very least basic mythology."

She bared her teeth. "You _li_ar. My family built its name on its own, same with the other leaders. We'd never make a deal with scum like you."

"I've lied before but this isn't one of those times. I _made_ the Gym Leaders what they are. I gave you your love for pokémon, and found your talent." His tone changed suddenly, back to the calm, uncaring tone he typically had, and he relaxed against the pole. "Don't talk what you don't kno-"

She threw a fist at him and it connected, slamming into his cheek and driving him sideways, bent in two with a hand clutched to his face. She cried out at the same time he did, collapsing to the ground with her hand clutched to her own cheek, which was reddening and bruising up. She wasn't bleeding, but he was – a line of milky liquid slid down, dropped onto his clothes where it burned and sizzled through.

"I taught you this just a few hours ago and _still _you defy me!" he shouted. "With every strike you lay on me you'll get it right back."

She stumbled up, glaring. "I'd still shoot your brains out if I had half a chance."

He raised his hand in the air and snatched a thick, hardcover book from the air. He rolled it over in his hands, as if to make sure he had grabbed the right one off the bookshelf, then threw it her way. She caught it, keeping her face set as her knuckles thrummed with pain. "Educate yourself, and maybe you'll be too ashamed of your past to confront me again."

Her fingers tightened around it, breathing deep. "There's nothing in my past to be ashamed of."

But he was gone, had popped out of existence as quick as it took them to blink, and with it went any chance of getting more information. Ash groaned, storming up to her. "Fan-_freak_ing-tastic. Now how the hell are we supposed to know what he was going to-"

"He says he's got something to do with the gym leaders, and he gave me this to prove it. Pretty damn big hint," she muttered. She released her grip on it, delicately opening the book. She stared at the title page for a moment, then licked her finger and began to turn the pages. "Pretty _damn _big hint, don't you think?"

"Maybe," he agreed reluctantly.

"I've got one just like it at home." She paused. "Not the same condition, I guess. Mine got passed down for generations, so it never looked this good. Same title, though." She smiled a bit and tapped a page. "And my favorite story is in the same place, same wording, same _font_, even. Mew, I must have heard this a hundred times before going to bed when I was little. I could probably recite it by heart."

He leaned forward, trying to see it, though he could hardly make out the words thanks to the fancy, flowery font. "Anything I'd know?"

"Probably. This one's a Cinderella story, but there's stuff like Rapunzel and the underdog hero and all those little stories with morals at the end."

"_The Fairytales of Kanto,_" he read, twisting his body to read the cover, "_An Em…_uh, crap, I can't read it with all the stupid cursive…oh! _An Em_bell_ishment of History._" He stepped back, examining the flowery script within. "Embellishment means lying, doesn't it?"

"Mom told me that it was something to pass onto my kids, make sure everyone had a copy. A family thing," she said quietly, closing it up. "But I never asked where the tradition came from. It's got to be just a stupid family thing, like Friday night pizza or-"

"I'll bet you anything it's a gym leader thing," he blurted, then childishly slammed his hands over his mouth.

"That's stupid."

"Are you sure?" he pressed, frowning at her condescending tone. "Did you ever ask Brock?"

She laughed, pushing the big book into his chest, but he refused to wrap his arms around it. "Ash, you can't believe that he was telling the truth, that he made Gym Leaders." She stared up into his face and added, with a touch of horror, "You _can't_ believe him."

He shrugged. "Well, you think the book's such a big hint but if he didn't do anything with you guys it's not a hint of anything, right?"

"Ash, it _can't_ be. Why would he make Gym Leaders? They keep peace, they don't start wars or play sick games." She frowned and brought it back from him, pressing it to her chest instead. "I don't believe it. I…I can't. It can't be. Tell me he's a liar."

"You ever read the whole thing?" he pressed further.

She stomped her foot. "Dammit, Ash, tell me he's _lying_!"

He didn't talk to her then, and she wouldn't talk to him for quite some time after.

**

* * *

**

I didn't have as good a feeling about this chapter, but I worked with it for quite some time, and I don't know what else to do with it. It's probably because it's been so hectic, but even now that exams have passed I can't think of any other thing. So, please tell me what you think went wrong, what you think went right, and I'll see if I can make it better.


	3. The First City: Viridian

_Don't ever tell anybody anything.  
If you do, you start missing everybody.  
-Holden Caulfield, from _The Catcher in the Rye

**The First City: Viridian**

The city of Viridian was colder than he remembered – that was how he justified his shivering. The real problem was that, from the moment his feet touched the pavement and he went off the dirt road, the world fell mute. No birds or bugs or pokémon buzzing in the grass. There were no fake people here, no cars or bikes, just buildings, and every building was pristine in every way. The streets were clean enough to walk on barefoot if he wanted and, without a single piece of trash or rubble to be found, he wouldn't even cut his foot. The perfect city – that's what made it so creepy. He wasn't used to being so alone. Only their footsteps, their breathing, and his own thudding heartbeat broke the silence.

"Do you have any ideas of where to turn in?" he asked, twisting his head back. Catching sight of her face, he suddenly remembered why he hadn't looked back all that time, and immediately looked forward again. He cleared his throat and tried, "Um, I was thinking we could try the Pokémon Center, if that's alright."

Misty didn't answer, which was weird. She had never _not _answered before. Even a simple, "humph!" and a pouting look away. Not this quiet rage, where she simply stared and glared and she walked so stiff she might have been a statue. She showed absolutely no signs of response. He looked at her mouth, her eyes, every twitch and breath to see if she would give him anything. Misty didn't.

"So…you're okay with it?" he asked. Pikachu slapped the back of his neck with his tail, and Ash took that as the hint to stop digging his own hole deeper.

The boy turned a hard left and went to where the Center had been. He didn't get lost this time. Clean, shining road signs directed him which way to go at every turn, and he paid close attention. He doubted Misty would correct him this time. She would probably let him wander all night if the alternative meant helping him out. He kept his mind focused and mentally patted himself on his back as the signs began to read: _To the Pokémon Center:_ _Eighty Meters…Seventy Meters…Sixty Meters…_and so on.

Once the signs had stopped, declaring, _Viridian City Pokémon Center, _the back patting stopped. The place had collapsed with no one to clean it up, and was now nothing more than a pile of charred rubble. The dust had long since settled, unevenly spread over the area, all the way out to the broken pavement and sidewalk. The orange roof was broken in several large chunks, the orange roof dulled by the dust from the explosion and slightly browned by rust.

He took a disbelieving step forward and glass crunched under his feet. As Ash glanced down, now noticing the little sparkles where the glass caught the light, the world spun and he stumbled back to where he had originally stood, each crunching step making his head throb with a migraine. The little True Hero voice in the back of his head whispered that none of it was real, that there were no pokémon there and it didn't matter. But there was no comfort for seeing a hospital in rubble. No comfort in realizing it was all his fault.

Misty's footsteps woke him up. She said nothing, did not touch to alert him, but instead simply turned and began to walk into the heart of the town. Ash followed her away from the scene, feeling all too delirious. Pikachu nipped at him, trying to keep the boy as focused as he had been a few minutes before. It was enough for him to follow Misty into the closest building, a business building with a large, gorgeous lobby. No beds here, not on the first floor, at least, but four large gold colored couches, each long enough for either or them to stretch out of and still have room left over.

He fell onto one, sitting with his hands gripping the cushion. The muttering started there, the quick words of, "It's all a lie. It's all a lie. Nothing really lives here," as Ash removed his shoes and socks, and as his shaking hands pulled off his vest. Pikachu groomed himself nervously, but kept leaping to the back of the couch to poke and prod at the trainer, trying to make Ash feel better the only way he knew how.

He went flat on his back, breathing deeply and bringing his hands up to cover his face. After a few minutes of that, he began to shake, then moan softly, and finally broke out into deep, chest shattering sobs. Ash knew exactly why the Pokémon Center was ruined, and it was _his_ fault. It was when Team Rocket had come, the first time he saw them and the first time he'd been in this city. Ash had fought them and won, and destroyed the Center in the process. He had never had a second thought then, not when Nurse Joy had thanked him despite the fact that he had ruined the center, that someone could had been, and some_thing_ certainly was hurt or killed in the blast.

Misty let him cry, carefully sliding off her own shoes and socks, then walking over to his bag. Ash was too busy crying to care when she dug through it, ignoring the packed foods, Reduced pokeballs, and underwear pulled out one of his extra black t-shirts. The bag was zipped up again, and she groaned softly as she got back up to her feet, walking to the bathroom in the back. It was unlocked, luckily, so she went on in and soaked it in the sink, squeezing out the lukewarm water before returning to his side.

Misty waited for him to stop crying, which wasn't very long. By the time half an hour had ticked by his tears had stopped and he was quietly snoring on the couch, one arm draping over the side and the other one crossing over his stomach. It wasn't surprising. If Ash had gotten any sleep at all the past week, she was sure it wouldn't have been much. People had been vanishing one by one, and he had been terrified over it. The constant phone calls he'd sent her had been enough to warn her of that.

Misty's hand slid over his forehead, letting the black shirt soak up the cold sweat and tears, replacing it with a now nearly freezing water. "You look so much like Aiden," she whispered, sliding the rag down the side of his face. Then shook her head bitterly and pulled it away again, amending, "Except you're not dead and burnt like a batch of my cooking." Misty wiped the rest of his face and his neck down quicker and rougher than she should have, and didn't bother cleaning off anything else – though she knew he could have used it.

She rushed off to the bathroom and clean the shirt with hand soap, which took longer than she liked and made it smell weird even while wet. Misty searched the room for somewhere to dry it, and when there was no good place in the bathroom, she dried it on the counter of the front desk. The water would drip down into the carpet, but it wasn't _her _carpet, so she didn't care very much.

Misty doubted that anything would attack them at night, but that didn't stop her from keeping watch, spending much of it fidgeting with the pocket of her shorts.

She had always carried the picture in her pocket. Always. It had to be there. She didn't remember the star haired man stealing it from her, and she couldn't think of any reason why he would. But she was so terrified that he had. Why couldn't she just slide her hand into her pocket and check? Blue jean shorts, nothing Misty hadn't touched before, and if he had done anything weird to it she would have felt it – the shorts were too tight not to. She couldn't tell about the picture though. She had worn it down over the past few years, so the paper curved with the curve of her thigh.

So, when she couldn't stand it a moment longer, her hand dove into her pocket and snatched out the photograph, holding it to her chest for a moment before she could bring herself to look at it. When she did, slowly pulling it from her chest, she gave a shaky sigh of relief. Her boyfriend was smiling at her, holding up a Cerulean badge he hadn't earned. He'd taken one from the box one day when she was telling the kids how she knew _exactly_ how many badges she had at any given time. He'd hidden it, and the kids had giggled when she counted out twenty six instead of twenty seven. She would have throttled anyone else, but it was cute when he did it.

But now, thanks to the star haired man, she would never see him again. She'd never kiss him or hold him or talk at midnight on the phone and feel like they were the only two real people in the world. Thanks to _Ash _she was completely alone. Aiden wouldn't…She glared at the picture intently. Only _she _could call him Aiden, but now that she was under that man's thumb she never would again. And it was all _his _fault, all _Ash's _fault.

"Whenever you sent me letters I read them to him, and we both thought you were incredible," she said to the unconscious boy, stretching out one hand to grab a couch pillow and clutch it to her chest. "He was jealous of you, because he knew I used to like you. I _told _him I did. Didn't matter. He got past his jealousy and thought you were great. Now he's dead and it's your fault."

Pikachu flipped his ears up as Misty rose from her seat, the picture tight in one hand and a pillow tight in the other. Her eyes weren't focused right, and she was leaning heavily to one side, with her head cocked the same way. That looked sick, and sick things were dangerous, even more so when they stumbled when they walked, like she did, and talked to themselves in that overly emotional voice.

"And it was _my _fault!" She hiccupped a bit, nears tears herself. "_I'm_ the one that did it, that burned him like that. Any _you, _with your smug little hero complex and your cute little smile didn't help one bit. You were saving stupid ass little kids from a _cliff _to care what was going on back in your region, where you _belong_." She raised the pillow above her head, above _his _head and whispered. "Maybe I should smother you so you can go visit _Aiden_, and _this _can be my fault too!"

Pikachu leapt to his feet, charging for an attack in case he needed to strike her down and save the boy, but she simply fell to her knees and stared into his face.

"It's all my fault. " Misty held up the picture to his closed eyes. "See this? See it? Carry it because I'm guilty. That's it. That's all. So I can stay guilty until I die because I deserve it. Because there's no way I could love him if I did that to him." She flipped it around, swallowing thickly. "And because he's just so cute, Aiden, I mean. I really did love him. _Do_ love him."

She stared a moment longer, then shook her head. "I can't believe I almost did that."

"Pika."

She jumped, then backed away, one hand over her pounding heart. "I…I forgot you were there. I'm sorry, I-"

Misty looked normal now, to an extent, everything was straight and her eyes were focused again, so Pikachu leapt over to her, putting his hind legs on her thighs and his front legs on her collarbone, examining her carefully. She looked fine, but smelled awfully sad. So he gave her nose a little reassuring lick, letting her know that as long as she didn't act sick again they were and allowed her to hold him tight.

Pikachu cuddled with her all night, which might have made her feel bad for Ash if she hadn't hated him so much. It did make her feel like she was getting some revenge, however, so by the time the afternoon had rolled around (about a few hours after Ash had woken up) she was ready to talk to him again, albeit a little harshly. The conversation picked up while they were wandering the town, ready to raid the place for a meal.

"You took care of me," Ash said, rubbing the back of his neck, carefully to choose the shoulder Pikachu wasn't sitting on to do so. "Uh, thanks for that."

She frowned, then surprised him by muttering, "Don't thank me."

"No, really, I-"

"I let you cry because you didn't help me when he gave me this stupid book and said all those stupid things. I didn't help you." Misty shoved her hands in her pockets and dropped her voice lower. "I only watched over you because if you die I can't get home."

"So, we're even now?" he asked hopefully.

She laughed bitterly. "No. Not even _close_. But you need help to get things back to normal, so what else am I supposed to do but work with you?"

Ash dropped his speed so he could walk next to her, and whispered though no one was around, "Can I do anything to fix this?"

She smiled his way, slapping his back painfully hard. "Bring my dead boyfriend back, or get the image of him burning to death out of my head. Then we're even."

It was a touchy subject. He knew it was. The overview had gotten around to the entire group – the burning, the death, the name – but nobody had details. As far as he had heard, not even Misty's three older sisters hadn't gotten the details out of the youngest. The only ones who knew were the Cerulean City Police, and they had made it clear she never had to repeat the story again if she didn't want to.

But Ash was unintelligent, so he asked, "What happened?"

She shoved him back, slamming both her hands into his chest. "What happened? You want to know what _happ_ened? Then how about you tell me what happened to get this stupid crap started? What were you _think_ing?"

"I was thinking I was saving someone," he retorted, "A kid who would have died if I didn't. I had no idea this would happen."

"You saw him!" she screamed, clenching her fists. "I _know_ you did! I _saw_ it!"

"I _thought_ I saw a man, standing on the far side of a cliff!" Ash remembered him alright. The man had been all lit up by the lightning, there for two flashes and gone by the third. He was weird looking, but he didn't pay too much attention. The man was scary, but he had a life hanging in his hands. Ash had bigger things to focus on. "Even if I _did _see him, how was I supposed to know? People can look like almost anything, especially if all they have to do is get a little Gengineering or surgery!"

"You must have felt it," she snapped.

"Barely. Mostly adrenaline." Ash shrugged. "How was I supposed to know it was some big bad guy?"

"And was it really worth it?"

"To see their faces when they get their kid back? Yeah." He laughed. "It's cheesy, but yeah."

She looked up at him. "And knowing everything that came from it, would you do it again?"

Ash's mouth opened, about to agree, _yes, of course, you save every life you can despite the consequences_, but he didn't know if that was true. How much trouble was that ugly little girl worth? Anything from him, he'd agree to that, but how much was he willing to let his friends suffer? He couldn't answer that one. So he steadied his nerves and replied, "I'll let you know when it's gone too far."

"Why, because nobody's dead yet?" she snapped.

"Somebody _is _dead, isn't he, Misty?" he snapped back. He instantly regretted it, but he knew it wouldn't help to take it back.

Misty looked torn between slapping him and crying, and finally decided to look away, and point at a sign. "That Pokemart is _that _way. We should stop there, load up in case we don't find anything while we walk out to Pewter. That's probably the only place you'll find good travelling stuff. Anything else is going to expire in no time flat, especially since we don't have anything to keep it cool in."

"We're not going to Pewter. We're going to the League first," he corrected. "That's where Gary is."

"We have to get him too?" she muttered, following the direction the sign was pointing.

"Yup. If it's too hard, maybe I'll just skip him," Ash chuckled weakly.

He lips twitched. "And his tombstone will read 'Gary was here, Ash is a loser'."

It was a stupid joke. And incredibly stupid, terrible joke, but it was enough to make them giggle. And with all the stress, the giggling was enough to make the laugh, which was enough to bring them to hysteria, where they had to sit down and take deep breaths between bouts of laughter. They had to wipe tears from their eyes again and again, and every once in a while one would make another snarky let-Gary-die comment and set them off again.

They eventually stopped, and, with one slightly frustrated and the other slightly pleased that they seemed to be getting along much better, they got to their feet and headed off to the store. It wasn't too far, and the only real problem was getting into the place. Ash pushed the metal lever that should have let him in, but to no success. The glass and metal door stayed secure. He rattled the door hard, then stepped back and kicked it. It didn't do much of anything, so he tried a few more times, which continued to absolutely nothing.

"Are you done?" Misty asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. "Or do you want to flail around like an idiot some more? I mean, there's no one but me here to see you, so it's not like you'll lose any reputation."

"And what's your brilliant idea?" he asked, now trying to combine his two strategies by rattling _and_ kicking the door.

"Yup. Give me a few minutes." She set off at a jog down the street, and he snorted. She could spend her time doing something stupid, he was going to do the real work and get it open. Misty returned, carrying a big, uneven chunk of brick, to him flinging himself into the door. She raised an eyebrow again. "My opinion has dropped lower. You are aware that even the lowest of all cavemen could use tools?"

"Stupid me, looking for _food _instead of _bricks_," he retorted.

"Bricks would have helped you get food. In fact, they _are _going to help you get food." She tightened her grip on the rock and hauled back. She snapped forward quick, releasing it with hardly any backspin, and it slammed into the store window, cracking it.

"Oh. Good job," Ash continued sarcastically. "You're so intelligent. How did I ever live without you?"

"Shut up," she snapped, running forward to pick it up. She jogged back a few steps, and threw it again. This time it shattered, spilling pieces both inside and out. The whole scene looked incredibly strange next to the perfect backdrop, Ash noticed, but Misty only stuck her tongue out proudly and went to the broken window. "See? Only took two shots. _You_ couldn't have got it the first time either."

He snorted. "I meant you could have hit the door instead of the window so it'd be easier to walk through."

She stood there for a moment, turning redder by the second and biting the inside of her cheek, then cleared her throat and walked forward. "Try not to cut yourself on the glass as you go in. Don't need you bleeding all over crap, 'cuz he's not going to heal your wounds outside of battle, Mr. Brave Soldier."

She climbed through the window, careful not to touch any of the glass that jutted out from the edges. She landed with a loud crunch on the glass, a second crunch right behind her as Ash jumped in. Misty eyed him, checking to see if he would have some sort of flashback to whatever had driven him crazy at the Pokémon Center, then looked back at the store when he seemed okay.

"Don't grab anything that doesn't Reduce," she instructed.

It took a second for Ash to realize what she meant. He hadn't heard needed the warning in a while. Brock always got the supplies, except for pokeballs, and pokeballs all Reduced. She was referring to the shrinking. Everything could be shrunken down to the size of a large bouncy ball, from a candy bar to a table, in a process called _Reducing_. No one had any idea how it was done, and the companies that did it had their mouths shut as tight. But it was important that these things did – because they allowed such travel to be comfortable, to some extent, for kids like him.

Ash picked up the closet thing to him – a flashlight, and twisted it around. "What if it doesn't say on the package, or I can't find a button?"

"If you can't tell, just look for the logo." She rolled her eyes. "Or _open_ it. It's not like it's anyone here to make you pay."

He thought about it for a moment. "Isn't it that square copyright symbol thing?"

"Yeah. Square with an _R _inside, a capital R." She strode up next to him and picked up another flashlight, this one a vivid pink, and she flicked the blindingly bright thing on. After a few minutes of examining, she set it down and waved a hand his way. "It should be on most everything, since it's a Pokemart."

"Right," Ash agreed, "and we're going to need sleeping bags, at least three for when we get Gary. We'll be in Pewter when we find Brock, and there'll be a Pokemart there. Uh, I've got plenty of matches in my bag, a flashlight. Don't have any pots and pans, but we don't need to cook. We can't cook, anyway."

She was already in the food isle. "Canned bread. Do you realize we don't have to eat crappy canned bread? No budget. We can eat the good, fresh, pricey, Reducable stuff." She picked up a loaf of bread, boxed in a sturdy white plastic, and pressed the white button on top, similar to that of a pokeball. It shrunk from a good sized loaf to something about the size of her index finger. "Oh, look at that. That's gorgeous. Nice, fresh bread in the palm of my hand."

He laughed. "You get good food all the time at the gym."

"Doesn't mean I forgot how crappy it tastes in a can." Misty glanced over at him, scoffing. "Stop being so weirdly responsible and come over to the food isle. I'll remember everything we need, so don't worry about forgetting."

Ash straightened as he wandered over, peering into the isles with wonder. "Look at all this stuff! _Ice cream_. The really pricey ice cream I can take on the road and have whenever I want and it's always just the right temperature. I haven't had that since…wow. Not since we blew all our savings on this stupid stuff after the Indigo League."

"Food that's completely made out of chemicals and plastics, with artificial flavoring that's so completely fake but at the same time the most wonderful thing in the world." She sighed happily, hugging some strangely colored gummy candy to her chest and closing her eyes. "The novelty things that came in cool shapes and colors. The kinds of things you get for holidays. We can get it all and have it on the road, because everything's free."

"And get fat," he snorted. "Don't you want to keep your swimmer's body? You must have worked so hard on it." Then, as he realized what he had said, the blush crawled up his cheeks and Ash began to stammer.

"Don't get so flirty, I have a boyfriend," Misty joked back, then cut short, swallowing thickly. That was right. She didn't. She hadn't had a boyfriend for quite some time now. "We…you get the food. I'll get the good sleeping bags. I know brand names and stuff and you…you probably don't know what to get anyway."

He grabbed her elbow, pulling her back. She slapped him away, but stayed. "Uh, Misty, I know that it was hard with…with what happened to him. I don't know what it feels like, I know that, because I've never…but…but if you talked about it I bet it would-"

"I don't _need _to talk about it," Misty snapped. "I'm not like you with your stupid…stupid touchy-feely crap. You know what happened, you don't need me to tell you again."

He shook his head. "Well, I mean, you should tell me for _you_, not for me. I mean, even if you tell Pikachu about it you might feel better."

Misty laughed again, and Pikachu's ears flicked up in worry. She sounded a little sick again, so he nipped Ash's ear to wake him up, to make sure that for every step she took forward, he would safely take one back. When she began to pace, Pikachu panicked and bit hard, and Ash was startled enough to duck away and make the mouse clash onto the floor. He dropped to his knees to pick him up, and Misty was over him, eyes wild as she glared down.

"Oh, it'd be better if I just talk about it? It's good for me, is it?" She laughed again, "Like I haven't heard that one before! Like every League official and reporter hasn't walked through my door with that same damn story! 'Oh, miss, it's so much better to talk about it than to keep it bottled up!' I know it's all crap! They're all asking for the same damn thing!"

His hand rested on Pikachu, whose fur bristled and picked at his hand. For some reason, Ash found it crucially important that he didn't stand up to quick, and was wondering whether he should make any motion at all. Instead he used his trainer voice, the talk-a-crazy-thing-calm voice, saying, "I'm not making money off you, I'm only asking. If you don't want to tell you don't have to. I swear I'm just trying to be nice."

"You're not being nice," she shouted, one of her hands grabbing one of the metal shelves to balance. "You're just like everyone else! You've got this morbid fascination with how it happened! You love it because you weren't there! You didn't have to watch him burn and hear the skin crackling over him _screaming_, did you? And you didn't have to _smell_ it, did you?" She let go and dropped to her knees as well, at his level and challenging him: "Do you really want to know?"

Ash wasn't afraid of her anymore. They were no longer ten and he had bigger things to face. So he kept his cool, staring back into her unfocused eyes, and whispered, "I don't, but if it'd make you feel better I'd listen."

"Talking to someone can't make it better," she said, blinking slowly, then dropping her eyes. "It can't fix what happened."

"Honestly, you should talk to some-" But he had made the mistake of reaching out his hand for hers, and she jumped away.

"Sleeping bags," she said. "We need sleeping bags."

"Right," he sighed, pushing to his feet as well. He stretched his hand down for his pokémon, but Pikachu declined the offer, preferring instead to investigate food packages and collect his favorites in a little pile. Ash followed suit, with his cheeriest, "I'll go get some food."

Neither had ever been one to let things drop, however, and soon enough Misty was asking, "So, who told you what happened?"

"No one," he lied awkwardly. "I got it off the news."

"News didn't mention me," she argued. "Didn't mention _any _names."

He examined a bag of jerky carefully, looking for an expiration date, before realizing that he didn't know _what _day it was in this world. "Maybe not your news but-"

"You didn't even blink when he said it was my fault, and I know that no news pinned it on me. The League would have slaughtered anyone who dared to do it." She folded up a large, pink sleeping bag for herself, looking for the Reduce button. "People don't hear suspect in a case like that and just go around their business. So, who told you?"

"My mom," he lied again. "She got it through the grapevine and thought-"

"That's crap if I ever heard it. I'll make it clearer: was it Daisy, Lily or Violet that told you?"

"Only your sisters and you know the details?" Ash asked, finally deciding that ripping open the jerky would be the best way to determine its freshness.

"And Aiden," she said softly, running her fingers over the strange sleeping bag material.

The name had caught him but surprise, but he explained, "Daisy told me."

"I knew it," Misty gasped, clutching the bag. "I knew she'd be the one to do it."

"It was when she called, looking for you when you were taken." He popped a piece into his mouth and gave a happy little moan. Smoky barbeque jerky. This was coming with him. "How'd it happen to you?"

She knew what he meant. "He popped out of nowhere and politely told me that he was setting up a test for you and that you needed me to be some sort of prize. So I told him where he could stick his test and the next thing I know I'm in a cage surrounded by bugs, and he's sitting on the cage and giggling like it's hilarious that I'm freaking out and throwing myself against the bars."

"He probably did," he mumbled around the meat.

"Bastard," she agreed. "And then he says, 'Do you want to see how all this started?' So I said yes and he showed me that stupid cliff scene. Then, when I'm all mad at you, he says, 'Let's see if he can get your key off the pillar or if he leaves you behind like he should have done with that little girl.' And then he left me there, for a whole day. And I was so scared I kept waking up and freaking out and fainting over and over."

He frowned, shoving more jerky in. "What would he leave you there for?"

Misty snorted. "He's a _jerk_."

"No, that can't be it." Ash chewed with his mouth open, unable to chew all the jerky he had stuffed in any other way. "You could have killed yourself in the cage, and you're no good as a prize if you're dead."

"Gee, thanks."

"It's what _he_ said. It's how _he_ thinks. If you're dead there's no reason to try to save you." Ash swallowed a chunk to talk easier. "So why would he leave you there long enough to beat yourself dead if he could pop you in an hours beforehand? You'd still beat yourself up for a while so he could have a grand old time, but that's probably not enough time to die."

"I'm glad you can talk about my death so casually." She had finally Reduced the blanket and had moved onto the next one, this a deep green.

He frowned deeper. "Something's wrong."

She snorted again. "Oh, something's wrong. Thanks, Sherlock, how the hell did you figure that one out? My first clue was when I got put in a mewdamned cage."

"He's lying about something," he continued, not bothered by her sarcasm. "Have you started reading that book?"

"No. Why?" She glanced outside, where she had left the book waiting on the sidewalk. "Want your turn?"

Ash grinned, leaning on a shelf. "No, it's _your_ turn and _your_ turn isn't over until you figure out why he gave you that book."

She gasped in protest, dropping the sleeping bag and racing outside to retrieve the thing, muttering, "No!" over and over. Misty came back in and shook it at him, making sure he saw the thickness of it. "It's huge! It's practically a textbook in format and content and it's definitely longer than one!" He smirked. "We don't even know if it's a hint! I could miss it, or even just read the whole thing for nothing if he just wanted to give us some bogus hint!"

"So, don't you want to know what's going on?" Ash lilted.

"I do, but-" she started.

His smirk grew. "You want to get home, right?"

"Well, yes, I do, but-" she started again.

"Then you better start reading!"

"I better _start_? This is all your fault to begin with!" she shouted, stomping her foot. "Why don't _you_ read?" He looked at her blankly, and after a moment it hit her and she blushed a bit. "Right. You read at the speed of four words per minute. But…I can't…I'll hardly be able to read! It'll only be when we stop for the night."

"Grab a rope," he deadpanned. "I'll tie us together so you don't walk into a tree. You'll only have to stop to eat and sleep."

"But…but I won't be able to talk to you," she protested. "You'll get bored."

"I could be mean and say maybe if you had talked to me, I wouldn't have gotten used to the silence; or I could be smart and say you can read cool stuff out loud to me." His grin was teasing, but overly so. Ash was too happy with his vengeance for it to be anything friendly. "You can choose which one you want."

"You're an ass," Misty seethed.

"And you're smart, so you better start reading, and I'll get everything we need." He went back to the shelves, starting a mental checklist.

"I hate you."

"You hated me before," he snorted, and threw the Reduced jerky into his bag.

She stuck her tongue out at him, and went to the book. A few minutes of skimming, and her eyes widened with horror."It's in old English! Not all of it, not complicated, but the parts that are the straight up history it's all _thou_ and _thee_ and _hither_. How am I supposed to read it?'

"You're the reader, you're the one who can recite _Romeo and Juliet_."

"Recite, sure, but I was _taught _how to do that. I didn't get it on my own." She glanced up, debating how important her pride was to her. She decided it was very important, and grudgingly revealed, "I can do it. But it'll take longer to figure out what it's saying," she said. "The sentence structure is weird in places, I'll have to read the paragraph eighty times over to get it."

"Then it'll take longer. We have to read it either way._ You_ have to read it either way. You're the one get gets riddles." He threw several more unhealthy snacks into his bags, all things _he _liked, before moving onto the healthy food. "I'm the hero, Brock is the knowledgeable sidekick-"

"And I'm the thing with boobs that tries on new bikinis every few days too keep up the morale." She scoffed.

"And solve riddles and read books and we'll never listen to you when you're right." He found a little mercy and tossed a peanut buttercup her way and she ripped open the package, cramming the whole thing in her mouth, hardly stopping to chew or taste the stuff. Ash watched her, and it suddenly struck him that she had been in the cage for more than an hour or two, and had been with him for nearly a day, and he hadn't seen her eat anything.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"No, but I was hoping we cold raid a restaurant next, or a super market." She licked some chocolate off of her thumb. "Maybe find something to microwave. I don't want to live off chocolate."

"I'd like to live off chocolate," he said lightly.

"Shut up, Ash."

Ash swung his backpack off, juggling it from one hand to another to undo the zipper, before digging his hand around inside and pulling out a sandwich and dangling it out in front of him. "You could use this, couldn't you?"

Her eyes widened and her tongue darted around her lips, but Misty managed to keep her voice steady and ask as nonchalantly as she could managed, "What kind? I don't like-"

"It's ham and cheese and mayo. I've got it in Icebags, but they're not really good. They're the crappy kind you get when your refrigerator dies and you have to keep everything from spoiling until you get a new one. They won't keep them for more than three days."

She clapped her hands twice and held them open, catching the sandwich when he tossed it. Misty's hands fumbled and ripped at the bag until it opened and a small cold blast released from the spot where it had ripped. She gobbled it down in no time flat, and he joked, "Want another?"

"No, if I eat too much I'll get sick. Give me a moment and then we'll try again." She stopped sucking her fingers clean to blink at him. "Where'd you get those? You can't put meat between bread without it catching on fire."

"Can too," he defended.

She shot back, hardly letting him finish his sentence, "Can not."

Ash rolled his eyes. "At the house, my mom was sort of there."

"Yeah, that explains it, your mom makes a good sandwi-" She cut short, glaring at him and suspecting that he was pulling her leg. "How was she here?"

"It wasn't the real her. He made her. To feed me." He paused awkwardly. "I can go back whenever I want and get food. She's got lots of good stuff."

"Oh." She said, but her brows knit together. "How can we get it back?"

"Don't know."

She looked around the room, then back to him. "If there's stuff like this I bet you anything we could find car."

"Can you hotwire one?"

"No." Misty smirked. "Bu the guy who drove around in a red convertible at ten probably could. But, it's reasonable, right? If this place is stocked with food there's _no_ reason we wouldn't find a car somewhere."

"You really think Gary knows?" Ash said, then laughed a bit to himself and looked at Pikachu. "Right. Gary. Of course he knows."

It was quiet again, Misty returning to the book and Ash returning to the shopping. Still, he couldn't let things go quite yet. He didn't want to lapse into the silence that would probably make up most of the trip until they got Brock back. So he made conversation about the only safe subject he could think of: "You should have told me you were hungry."

Misty didn't keep it safe. She let her eyes fly back up to him and spat, "You should have told me you knew about Cerulean."

"It never came up."

"Neither did this," she muttered. "Just finish getting our stuff."

He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. "Get the stuff, get out, get Gary," he mumbled.

_Get the girl_. He was holding her wrist tight but there was still something wrong, something dangerous. So he looked around, his eyes peeled for anything that might knock him off as well. People on one side of the bridge, still screaming and crying. A man on the othervside, the far side of the cliff who looked strange even from a distance. His stomach had twinged with that fear again, but that didn't matter. The girl mattered, and when she was safe in his arms she cried and clung to him fiercely and, for a split second, he felt that perfect feeling of being someone's hero.

But that second had passed as the parents swept out and he handed the little girl to them. They cried with her and were so thankful, so sweet to him. He said it was nothing, which it wasn't. It hadn't been then and it wasn't now. What had saving her done, anyway? Saving Misty a few moments before had done what? Delayed the inevitable? She was still burdened with fear and hate and the minor and major ups and major and minor downs that made life what it was.

All he wanted was to hold her in his arms while she cried so everything would be perfect and safe again – even if it was only for a second, because this time he would remember better and would hold that feeling as close as he could. Because then he'd remember what it meant to be a hero and the world would make sense again. Except he didn't know who the _her_ was, whether it was Misty or the little girl or his mother or even if the _her_ should have been a _him_. Except he wasn't quite sure if the world had ever made sense to begin with.

Except, even more than he wanted to be the one holding that little girl, he wanted to be the one held.

**

* * *

**

Sorry it took so long! Between school projects, twelve hour skiing marathons, homework and horseback I hardly had the time to write! And the editing…-shudders- the editing of this beast of a chapter is best forgotten.

I really, really appreciate the reviews you've all been giving me. If you guys can keep with the fantastic criticism and great questions, maybe I can get this baby to something halfway decent! And, if nothing else, you make me feel guilty about being slow on the updates, and what better motivator is there than guilt?

I'll try my hardest to get the next chapter uploaded quicker, so hold onto your hats, Gary fangirls! That red convertible owner should be driving onto a webpage near you soon!


	4. The Bird and the Researcher

_I do not wish to kill or be killed,  
but I can foresee circumstances in which these things would be by me unavoidable.  
_Henry David Thoreau

* * *

**The Bird and the Researcher**

"_In the time of ancient men, when cities were aflame. A man, a king, he did stand up, and healed the city's shame,_" Misty quoted, the big book open. She had settled it along her upturned forearms and braced it against the two cups of her elbows. It was easiest to walk that way, she decided, as she could look up quickly and catch herself just by flipping her forearms over if she tripped. Still, she wasn't too nervous about losing her footing.

This was thanks to Ash, who glanced back and fidgeted with the rope around his waist. He could see it led straight back to her, about three feet apart, and that the knot was still tight around her own stomach. So far, the system had worked, as she had not walked into a single tree or tripped into a single ditch. As far as he knew, she had kept her eyes in the book all morning, stopping only to groan at him about how boring it was.

"That sounds like how a book would start," he accused. "You should've been reading it all morning."

"Shut up, Ash. I _have _been reading it all morning and I _just _got to the beginning," Misty grumbled and snapped the book closed on her finger to keep her place. "The book had a long, boring introduction, and it had to open up with a damn _poem_. I don't do poems, Ash. I hardly do history."

"What'd it say?" he asked, and walked backwards to watch her as they talked. The beaten path looked smooth and straight as far as he could tell, and Ash had walked through forests often enough to know when he was about to walk into a tree.

She opened it again, burying her head in the pages. "Nothing important. Turn around."

"Let me hear! There's got to be something cool!" Ash pleaded.

"There's nothing important, I swear." She turned another page, being as delicate as she could. The paper so old and thin she could hardly feel it through the calluses on her fingers. They didn't look sturdy. Each page was brown with water marks and age, and most were hardly hanging by a thread from the bindings. Misty continued, "There's nothing worthwhile in it, and you wouldn't understand it if there was."

"That's fine.'" He shrugged. "I just thought it'd be nice to hear your voice."

"Wow. What a creeper."

Ash blushed and walked straighter. "I'm not a cree-"

Closing the book on her finger with an overacted anger, she cut him off: "So, this goes back to before we had a king. We've got the League now, and a real long time ago we had the king family thing, and this goes back before the idea of a king uniting all of Kanto was even _thought _of. They had tribes, and they never got to over one hundred people or it'd just end up falling apart."

His mouth dropped open and he rushed to the book. "How long ago was that?"

"Thousands of years," Misty said, trying not to smile at his enthusiasm, though, as much as she grumbled about how boring the bulk of it was, she was brimming over with eagerness herself. "I mean, this is a _history _book – like, stories in here that were passed down orally kind of history. Each city was a tribe, and there were _loads of tribes, _way more than we have now. This is the list of them." She showed him a long, small print page that continued on another page. "They basically had no alliances, no rules, and each one was out for the extinction of every other. And after…"

She trailed off for a moment, flicking back and forth a few pages, "Forty or so pages of wars, and _he's_ not mentioned in any of them, by the way, we get a fun little prophecy from a non-existent town about how a king would appear. He did, in the form of," a few more pages were turned before she could quote it directly, "_A youth, dark haired and dark eyed, who was tanned by the peace of the beaches of southern Kanto. His arms and legs and torso were taut and sinewy but his heart was soft, his mind was quick, and he could tame all monsters without a trap._" She glanced up and raised an eyebrow, "Muscles and intelligence aside, I'm sensing a family resemblance."

"He's probably not real," Ash said with a shrug. "And if he ever did I'm sure his line died out."

"Never know, Ketchum, things get screwy when heroes are involved. Maybe you've got a direct family line." Misty grinned now, pushing his shoulder gently with hers.

"Well, what did this hunk of gorgeous man-meat do? Save babies from burning buildings? Rescue damsels from burning towers?"

She cackled. "Close. He killed the leader of almost every tribe."

"How is that _close_?" Ash said, his eyes round and large.

"He burned their bodies afterward, so you were close with your 'burning' part."

He shook his head. "This is a _hero_."

"This is a _king,_" she corrected, and began to look through the pages as she described the attacks. "But he did leave eight tribes alive. Pewter refused to let him in with their defense and they gave him a woman to keep him busy. Cerulean, oh. Great. They whored themselves out. Uh, Vermillion had too great of a military strategy, but gave him a concubine anyway. Celadon disoriented him with scent – oh, they whored themselves out too. Fuchsia hid and, oh, gees, they sent a girl to get whored out. Saffron _mentally _whored herself out. Cinnabar hid on the island and Viridian hid under the ground. Oh, but Viridian sent up a whore, just in case Mr. Hunk thought about looking for him."

"What a pimp," Ash snorted, hardly able to croak out the words through his laughter.

"Was sex the solution for everything? It was their distraction, their defense, their bribe, and I'm pretty sure one of the war stories in here was about girls charging into battle naked –" She pointed to another page in the book, this one with a detailed picture of the girls rushing into battle, "which they won, by the way."

"I know I'd lose to a bunch of naked girls." He looked over her shoulder at the page. "Is that the only illustration?"

She started to flip, then stopped. "You want to see burned to death people?"

"No."

"Only picture," Misty said swiftly, turning pages once again.

Ash cleared his throat. "So, what happens next?"

"He becomes king and takes over three hundred wives, and he still cheats. But, all the cities that whored themselves out were under his control. He married the girls and they couldn't risk them dying if they rebelled." She paused, then turned back to where she was originally, where the stories started. "Tribes were small, Ash, most were only fifty to seventy people at best, and almost everyone was closely related. The girls were daughters, cousins, sisters, mothers…they couldn't let them go."

"They never fought back?"

Misty bit her lip, trying to remember the name of the city so she wouldn't have to flip back. That was one of the pages with a color picture, one that majorly featured the color red. She made up the city, hoping she was right: "Celadon first, and the king killed their girl. No one tried for a while after that."

"How long?" Ash asked.

"On a large scale, from what I know? You need to wait a millennia before the first attempted overthrow of the royal line. On the small scale, every fifty or so years there were little attempts that were crushed quickly." She made a face and looked at the huge lump of pages she had already read. "Hundreds of pages of laws and boring crap before anything exciting happens again."

He insisted, "You have to read it all, just in case."

Misty grit her teeth. "I know."

"I know you're all tricky and stuff, but don't try and get out of this." He put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off. "Yeah, whatever."

Ash tried again, "Wars are cool to read about."

"Yeah, if you're a_ boy_."

He smirked. "Then you should be enjoying it, right?"

Misty growled and slammed her foot against the small of his back, and he collapsed to the ground, groaning and rubbing at the sore spot. It didn't heal like his other wounds did, which made her happier than it should have. Once Ash got up, he yanked her knot of the rope tight, under the excuse of "just checking" and continued on at a pace that constantly alternated between quick and slow. It was one that tired him out a bit and left her barely standing.

She looked up at him, making her eyes big and innocent and, she hoped, bluer, as blue eyes were supposed to be more innocent looking. "I've read the first five hundred years," she begged, touching his shoulder so he would look at her, "Can I _please _stop now?"

He looked into her eyes, which were still more green than blue and would not have persuaded him even if they _had _changed color, and laid a hand on _her_ shoulder. "You can stop any time you want and live with the fact that you might never, ever, _ever_ get to the end of it and that asshole is going to kill us all in our sleep." He smiled. "Still, I won't beat you up for stopping. You can stop anytime you want."

She slapped his hand off and they continued, now at a regular pace, while Misty muttered, "Never have I ever finished a giant history book."

"Never have I ever had a peanut butter and pickle sandwich," Ash retorted, laughing at the joke.

She winkled her nose, and he realized she probably didn't remember or _care _about the peanut butter and pickle sandwich he had dared her to eat five years ago. Ash barely remembered the night, just that it was raining, and the only reason he remembered _that _was because they were inside. When they had traveled together, they were only inside for nights and rain. After an awkward moment, the creased between her eyebrows and smoothed out and she shot back, "Never have I ever been dumb enough to stick my hand in a garbage disposal to get a coin back."

His retort was quicker, "Never have I ever flashed my friends."

She blushed, using the book to give him a good hit to the back of his head. "Accidentally. But never have I _ever _been caught tongue kissing my rival's sister."

"Let's not remind Gary of that the next time we see him," Ash said, wincing at how his rival had reacted the _first _time he had heard it, and at how he would probably react again. He steered the conversation back to the cheerier stuff, saying, "Never have I ever said, 'I know' when someone says they love me."

"If you say it more it becomes less special."

"Sure," he said, not sounding very convinced.

Misty scoffed. "What do you know about love anyway?"

He straightened, his male pride offended. "I know plenty! I've had my share of girlfriends."

"Oh really?" She snorted, going to cross her arms and looking stupid when she was blocked by the book in her hand. "Who?"

"None of your business."

"I've dated _four_ different guys."

"Ha! I've dated six!" he shot back.

Misty snickered. "Six guys. Good job."

"Shut up."

"You have a type?"

He thought. "A girl who likes pokémon and gets along with Pikachu."

At her raised eyebrow. He thought harder. "I guess. I mean, I can't really think of anything else they had in common."

"Hair? Eyes? Legs? Breasts? Personality?" No for all, and for the last one he added a laughing snort to explain just how different each girl had been. She matched his pace in two long steps and looked at him full on, not bothering to hide her curiosity. "Come on, there's _noth_ing you like in a girl?"

"Nope, whoever I fall for is whoever I fall for. Personal questions, though, Mist. What's that about?"

The hostility returned. "Don't call me that."

"_He_ didn't call you that," Ash argued. "I called you that all the time when we were growing up. What's wrong with it?"

"We're not growing up anymore. We're not close anymore." Misty folded a page in the old book to mark her place, and closed it. "That's what's with the personal questions, Ash. I don't know you anymore. You don't know me anymore. Since I'm gonna have to be travelling all around this weird clone world with you, I think I should know the person I'm traveling with a little better. So, personal history."

"I'm the same guy. I've just dated a few more people, caught a few more pokémon, won a League and placed pretty well in a few more." He grinned. "Saved the world a bit, made new friends. Same old, same old me. Just more of it."

Misty stared at him, trying to figure out if he was really boyfriend material now, and asked, "You ever been in love?" to keep him distracted from her wandering eyes.

He considered for a moment. "I think I probably have. Been close for sure. What about you?"

She put her head down and murmured, "None of your business."

Ash laughed. "None of my business? What happened to getting to know each other?"

"Tell me more about yourself," she ordered, smiling the fakest smile he had ever seen her wear. "Tell me about the stuff that happened. I just saw the whole bridge thing. Girl falls, you catch her, happy family…Is there anything else to the story or does it end there?"

He shrugged. "I guess that's the end of that part. I mean, we just went back and crashed in the Pokémon Center. The police sent absolutely everyone home. Nobody argued that time around. Nothing else happened. I never really would've thought about it again if it hadn't led to…all this." He glanced off into the woods and then ran his fingers through Pikachu's fur. "Never would've thought it would lead to this, right buddy?"

Pikachu cuddled back, his pillar against Misty's continued questioning of: "How'd you get here?"

"He said I could come save you or he'd kill you all. I chose to save you. Wasn't that tough a decision," he lied.

"Who was stolen first?"

"Pikachu. He went out, he never came back. Little later on, jerkass shows up and acts polite." Ash's fists clenched tight by his side. "Then he says that he took my pokémon and poof! Vanishes. Just…vanishes. Nothing to show he was gone. No psychic blue light, no smoke. You just blink and he's gone."

"Who was next?"

He stared at her for a moment. "I get a question first."

"Shoot."

He stepped in front of her, stopping her, acting so serious Misty wanted to giggle, but held it in. He gave his speech, which was a solemn, short ramble, with all the sincerity he could manage: "I told you again and again that something was wrong, to come to see me. I said people were going missing, that there was some big baddie who was going after everyone I had been close to. I called you _again _and _again_. I know you got the messages. Your sisters got the messages and they _told_ me they gave the messages to you. _You never came._ Misty, you know the kind of trouble I get people into, and you never came. Why did you never come?"

She sighed. "I don't know."

"That's crap. Tell me the truth," he said firmly. "You always know why you do what you do. You overthink _every_thing. That's what you're the sidekick for."

She rolled her head around her shoulders slowly. "I don't know. I guess…I didn't come because I just…I had a lot of stuff on my plate."

"Why were going all out to avoid me?" Ash persisted.

Misty glared, getting hostile. "I wasn't in the mood to see anyone after I killed Aiden."

"It was an accident." That wasn't going to get through, he knew that the second the words left his lips, and her hardened face confirmed it. "I wouldn't have blamed you. Brock wouldn't have. No one would have said anything bad about you. We wouldn't have made you feel bad. You should have known that. You should have come."

"You couldn't have saved me either way! What difference does it make?" she spat.

"We might have grown up and grown apart but that doesn't mean I don't _care_! You're still my friend, whether you want to be or not." He took a step back, even though he was so frustrated he wanted to shake her. "I don't want you hurt, and like it or not we're safer together than we are apart. You should have come. Maybe, just _maybe _we could have done something if we hadn't been who knows how far apart. Maybe nothing would have happened, maybe we could have took him on, _any_thing."

Misty gripped the book. "We were friends forever ago. It's not like we were lovers or family or anything. Why can't you just realize that I moved on with my life without you?"

"Because I know you didn't," he said, the urge to shake her almost overwhelming.

She snorted. "And how do you know that?"

"Because people don't move on from me!" he yelled, losing his control. She jumped at his outburst. "People don't forget _me_. Call me cocky, think I'm an ass, I don't care! People don't move on from me. And you know what? With all the crazy stuff we did? We _were _family. I don't know what you remember, but from when I was ten to when I was fourteen, you and Brock and Tracey and Mom and even _Gary_, you were my _life_. We were close, and you don't move on from that."

"You don't," she whispered. "I do."

"You're lying."

"I'm guilty," Misty said stiffly. "I couldn't face you guys, after what I'd done."

He changed the topic again. "I think we should sleep here. It's late enough. So we might as well set up camp."

"Who takes first watch?"

"No watches," he said. "He plays games, he follows rules. That's what psychos like him do. He's not going to send anything after us."

Misty wasn't so willing to move on from any argument, her temper still hot. "You don't know that."

"Fine," he said, smiling amicably. "You sleep tonight. You didn't get any last night, I bet. You stayed up looking out for monsters. So I'll stay up. Then we'll take shifts from then on. We'll keep it fair that way."

She glared. "You're going to wait until _I_ fall asleep and then _you're _gonna go to sleep, aren't you?"

"Probably," Ash agreed happily. "But it's not good for you to stay up two nights in a row. You're not gonna be able to force yourself to do it. Why don't you just trust me this one time, and I'll do it your way for everything else?"

She jabbed her finger at him. "Because you know as well as I do that you're not going to believe me. I'm going to figure out everything and _you're_ going to be like the protagonist in every horror movie ever made. 'Oh, no, he can't be the killer. He's so nice!' And I'll keep telling you and telling you and I'll wind up dead because you won't believe me." Misty stomped her foot. "Screw you! I'm not going to wind up dead because you're stupid."

He fake sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You're right. I haven't slept in days. I'm crazy with stress. I mean, all I have to do is let that stress get the best of me and I'm up for another week. It'd not like you're just gonna stay up until you stop getting mad, which you won't, of course. And you won't fall asleep at five in the morning. And then I _won't _go to sleep the second you close your eyes."

"That's not true!" Then, after a fruitless kick of a pebble, muttered a defeated, "Fine. It is. But at least humor me and stay up until after I go to sleep. There might be something out there that wants to eat me."

He was about to make a joke about her being the same ten year old she was years ago, but was stopped by her figure, her face, and the confident, invincible movements that came from being a teenager and said, "You know that you're…" –here he swallowed- "…you're eighteen now."

Misty stared at him, wondering if his final screw had gone loose. "So are you. You're all grown up, Ketchum. How does it feel?"

"Like crap."

She curled up in her sleeping bag and he humored her. He sat up until her breath finally slowed and she started snoring. Then he rolled out his own sleeping bag and put out the fire. That woke her up, and he humored her a little more until she fell asleep again. Then he crawled into his sleeping bag and slept, Pikachu curled up by his side, and hoped Misty wouldn't wake up again. If she decided to stand guard all night, and he'd have to drag her all across the road the next day.

She woke up without a problem about an hour after he did, both in the early afternoon. Misty didn't bother breaking the book out, and he didn't bother telling her too. Ash was too happy for the company, and they had plenty of time before they reached the League. They walked quicker, almost skipping as they talked. Mostly they talked gossip and pokémon, but the conversation eventually slid back into the situation at hand.

"What do you think his challenge is going to be?" Ash asked.

"Something smart, I bet."

"Nah, people are physical challenges. Pokémon are mental. It's got to be something I do with my body."

She laughed, one hand clapping over her mouth to smother it, so more jokes could be made. "Oh, well, that opens a whole _world_ of suggestions. Things you could do with your body to save Gary. If we run into that guy, I've got a few suggestions of what the next challenges should be."

He groaned. "He's my rival, please don't go there."

Misty continued in her best romance novel narrator voice, "'_Oh, Ash,_' he'll say with his muscles rippling and covered in sweat, 'I need you so bad right now.'"

"If you keep this up, prepare for lesbian incest jokes about your sisters," he said, covering his ears with his hands. "I swear. They'll only make me feel better!"

She yanked his hands down, giggling. "And you'll just undress each other slowly and make out passionately in order to save him from those chains. You'll have to chain him up again when you get back home, since you guys are so into that, but that will never change how hot and magical that rescue sex was."

Ash taunted, "So, rumor has it you practice kissing with your sisters?"

"Ew, Ash, it's, like, only second base!" Misty said, tossing imaginary long hair over her shoulder.

He chuckled and shoved her sideways. "Seriously, what do you think his challenge is going to be like?"

"No clue." She shoved him back. "Is there anything Gary's afraid of? Spiders, snakes, clowns?"

"Me winning. Aside from his pride getting beat up, I can't think of anything. Not everyone has a secret psychological fear like you with your bugs."

"I know that. But I can't think of anything it might be." She fiddled with a loose thread on the binding of the book. "Maybe I was a fluke, and the rest of the challenges won't have anything to do with the person. Maybe they're just challenges. Like, run a marathon or swim across a river."

"Your challenge sucked, by the way," he said suddenly. "In case you were wondering if people without a fear of bugs enjoy being in a pinching, pointy, squirming bug pit? Yeah. Not exactly highlight of my year."

She rolled her eyes. "Right, so, to the League. No mountains, no real forest, a pretty straight trail. We should get there by nightfall. If we take longer breaks or turn in early we'll definitely be there by morning. We shouldn't have anything come up, though."

Ash groaned, coming to a dead halt. "That irony loving bastard."

He was there, of course, the irony loving bastard as he was. He wasn't playing it cool this time, but standing in the middle of the road like a warning sign, back as straight as if a rod had been shoved up from the bottom of his feet up to the nape of his neck, and eyes just a bit too wide. If they had looked very, very carefully, they could have seen his hands shaking by his sides, but Ash barely noticed, and Misty was too busy foaming at the mouth and rushing at him to care.

"I'm reading the whole damn book!" she cried. "Give me a hint! Tell me if the clue is at the beginning, middle or end. I'm not the one on trial anyway! _Ash_ is! Let's save time."

"I'm immortal. I have all the time in the world," he retorted, voice as calm and cocky as ever.

She picked up the closest rock, which was on the far side of the road, and threw it at him. He had no problem ducking, and she shrieked even louder: "Tell me where the clue is!"

He gave an evil grin. "What clue?

She ran for him, but Ash stopped her, wrapping his arms around her neck to keep her from running him down. When they were little, Misty was stronger than him. He wasn't going to take any chances on their strength ratio now. There would be no comfortable grip around her waist or chest, or even something as innocent as under her arms. His arm was a rope around her neck, and he would have no problems letting her strangle herself.

"What are you here for this time?' Ash asked steadily, ignoring the girl twisting in his grasp.

"I've decided that it'll take too long for you to collect at all your friends before the riddles start," he said. "So, I'm just going to put random riddles up wherever I feel like."

"I thought you had all the time in the world to wait?" Misty sneered.

Ash dropped his head to her ear, barely keeping himself from tightening his grip to shut her up quicker. "I want to be friends, but if you keep this up I _swear_ I will smother you to keep you quiet. Nobody's getting hurt on my watch."

She struggled, her hands fruitlessly grabbing at his arm, scratching and pulling hard enough to break through the top few layers of skin. After a strange looking maneuver of bucking up and tilting her head in an attempt to bite herself free, she let her hands fall and muttered back, "If you had any respect for me as a person you'd let me make my own mistakes and try and kill the guy."

He snorted. "If you were the only one who'd get killed for it, trust me, I'd let you go."

"If you're done, I'm not finished," the man chirped. "I was going to tell you where the clue is in the book."

"Really?" Misty gasped, her hands now clutching Ash's arm with excitement.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself!" He laughed. Then, he shook his head, controlled his laughter, and explained, "I just want to let you know that you don't have to do a watch. There's no pokémon here. Get your sleep. I like my heroes fresh."

Like before, he vanished. It took longer for them to realize he was gone than for him to actually disappear, and longer still for Ash to realize he still had Misty around the neck. He dropped his grip and took a step back, holding his hands up in case she decided to launch at him. She didn't, just shot him a dirty look and rubbed both her hands around her neck. She didn't cough, which meant he hadn't hurt her throat too badly, and she didn't attack him, which meant she wasn't too mad. Even if she had, Ash wouldn't have regretted it. Misty's mouth had managed to land them in trouble more than once, and the starry haired man was all too concerned about politeness.

"We're keeping watch tonight," he said finally.

"Yeah, you got that right." She hardly took a pause before she said, "Thanks for holding me back. Something about that guy just drives me crazy. I'm usually not this bad anymore."

Ash smirked. "It's nice to see some things never change."

"Like your underwear."

"Flipping them inside out counts."

Misty shuddered. "No, it doesn't."

They walked on, finishing the debate of whether or not flipping it inside out counted (they came to a compromise that it wasn't as healthy as getting a new pair, but still cleaner than just wearing them the same way) and Misty went back to the book. He asked her what the real story was, and she said it was a half poetry, half prose mess that she would tell him about later, once she got through and made sense of it all. Ash kept pestering her about what she was doing and why she couldn't think out loud, until she finally screamed at him to shut up and watch where he was going so she could focus on what she was supposed to be reading.

After ten minutes of focused reading, it was all broken by Ash's halt and question of: "What's that?"

"A barn?" Misty proposed, stepping up beside him. He turned to glare at her, and she ignored him, drawling on, "I mean, that'd be my guess. I'm pretty bad at buildings. Way better at fitting round pegs into round holes. Shapes – that's my specialty."

"The sarcasm is nice. Really helpful."

"It's ironic you're saying that sarcastically," she pointed out.

Ash grinned a bit and looked closely at what was in front of them. She was right about it being a barn, no way around that. It was a nice barn, too, one of the plain ones with white trimmings and a pyramid roof made of black shingles. It was tall enough to break a few bones if one landed the wrong way, and could easily snap a neck if one didn't know how to land. It had appeared just a couple feet in front of them, so they couldn't see the top.

"Right, so, there's a barn," he said. He looked at her. "What's the barn for?"

"Barns hold things: animals, pokémon, food. Maybe your pokémon's in it and you have to get in."

He frowned. "That sounds physical."

"How'd you figure out the last one?"

Ash opened his mouth, about to tell the whole story of saving Pikachu, before he realized she probably didn't want to hear that, and had probably meant how he figured out what the challenge was. So he started again and said, "There was a paper that told me what to do."

"How long did it take?" She looked at him sideways.

"A few hours."

"It took you a few hours to follow the instructions?" asked Misty incredulously. "What was written down on that freaking paper that it took you an hour? Hebrew?"

"It was a riddle," he defended awkwardly.

"So, what? You think they're'll be a riddle somewhere this time?"

"You want to search for it?"

"What else is there to do?" She shrugged. "If you don't have any idea what you could possibly be…?"

He began to wander to the barn. "We've been over this. I'm the muscle, you're the boobs and brains. If you don't get it, how am I supposed to?"

"You're freaking useless," she scoffed.

"I know! That's why I'm so glad you're here!" he chirped. "Hey, are those riddles posted on the door?"

She looked back at the barn, then grinned in spite of herself. "They are! What do you know, Ketchum, you're not completely useless after all. Good eyes!" She trotted up to the wall, Ash alongside her, and together they examined the wall. The paper was brown around the edges, the same look as the book she had been reading all day, and was nailed to the barn door with two rusted nails. The words were handwritten, and Misty was haltingly able to make out the poem:

_Up on the roof your monster sits but do not be afraid,  
No beasts are here to maim you, only eggs to soon be laid.  
Catch the egg, the beast is yours, you can continue on your way.  
But which way will the egg fall, dears?  
Please have a pleasant day!_

Misty was quiet, contemplating, before Ash broke into her thoughts with, "Why does everything turn into a poem during an adventure? I mean, why can't they just tell me? It's not too much to ask for a, 'hey, pull that lever to save the girl' instead of eighty lines of rhyming." He jabbed a finger at the paper. "They do it on purpose. It's like they want me to fail."

"Oh my freaking Mew, did you always bitch this much?" she growled, smacking her hand across the back of his head. "I thought you wanted me to solve the riddle for you!"

"I do," he whined, rubbing the spot.

"Well, you have to shut up! I can't think with you talking my ears off," she sighed and turned back to the riddle, "Ar_ce_us."

He sighed, plopping down in the grass. "Fine. I don't care. Solve it without me."

"I thought that's what you-oh, what do I care?" She focused harder on the paper. "I hate you either way."

She liked the riddle, though. It was vaguely familiar. Granted, most riddles were familiar once you figured out how to think like them. It was easy enough to figure out the basis of it. Ash's bird type was on the roof and was, at some point, going to lay an egg. The egg was going to roll down one of the four sides, and they would have to catch it. The trick was to figure out which way the egg would fall. Her mouth watered for a second at the thought of a nice, warm plate of scrambled eggs, then she shook it off.

"Hey, staraptor! I can see him!" Ash shouted, interrupting her thoughts once again. The bird called to his master sadly, and held out his strangely bent wing in obvious pain. "That bastard! He broke staraptor's wing! The bas-"

"Of course he did," Misty snapped. "He'd just fly down to us otherwise. We have to solve the riddle. You said it yourself, he's playing a game. He doesn't want us to cheat."

Ash was still furious. "He didn't have to break his wing."

"No, he didn't, but he did." She held up her hand to haul him up to his feet. He didn't take it. "The best we can do is solve the riddle as fast as we can and save the poor bird. Maybe he'll heal up staraptor like he healed you up. You know, because he completely screwed me over but he healed you up."

"I hate him," Ash said.

"Good. Great. That's what he wants," she explained, sitting down in front of him. "So you'll get distracted by how much you hate him and throttle him, and then he can do it back to you ten fold without ruining his little politeness thing."

He fumed. "Next time I'll let you pummel him."

"You mean let me hit him once and get it back twice as hard and wind up bleeding on the ground?" She laid down, arms behind her head. "That would be fun."

"It'd be great to wipe that smirk off his face," he snorted.

"Ash," she said, starting it like a scolding, but it simply faded into an order of: "Go stand on the other side of the house. The egg could fall at any moment. We should cover every side we can, better our chances for catching the egg."

Pikachu ran to a third side and beamed. Misty rolled to her side and smiled back. "Three sides covered – perfect. That's perfect. Only one side empty. Not bad odds."

"But what's the riddle?"

"It's which way the egg will fall," she said, looking sadly up at the roof. "There's a trick to it, I just have to figure it out."

"Math?" Ash suggested. "Maybe there's a four sided roof equation?"

"Not one that I know."

He licked his thumb and stuck it up in the air, then dropped it down. "No wind. So you can't tell from that."

"Quiet, Ash," she said. "Let me think."

And so she did. For a good twenty minutes she thought. She sat up, laid down, paced, thrashed around, anything to keep the thoughts running. Ash grew tired of it and spent the last ten minutes sitting, feet spread and hands just behind him so he could jump up if the egg began rolling down the side. It struck her like lightning and she began to giggle in the middle of her kick. That made her fall over, and she rolled in the grass with laughter.

"I'm so freaking stupid!"

He looked over, smiling. "You figured it out?"

"Yeah." She smirked, laughter quieting. "I figured it out. I've heard this a million times before. One of my cousins gave me stupid riddles like these all the time, the ones that had one key word in it that you never thought about. The only difference is that it's a rooster on top of the barn instead of your staraptor." She rolled his way and quizzed, "If a rooster lays an egg from the top of a barn, which way does the egg fall?"

"Which way?" he asked.

"It doesn't," she said, walking away from her side of the barn. "It can't fall, because it's a rooster, get it?"

"No. If I did, I'd be a lot less freaked out," he muttered, not sounding freaked out at all.

She laughed, clapping her hands together in intellectual ecstasy. "Roosters don't lay eggs! Chickens do! Roosters don't lay eggs."

"That's great, Misty, it really is, but staraptors do. So I don't think it applies."

She draped herself across his shoulders. "Hey, Ash, what do you have that I don't?"

He shot her a winning smile. "Personality, charm, and looks that Gary can't match up to?"

Misty rolled her eyes and his grin grew wider. "The difference between me and you is that you have sperm, I have eggs. Unless I'm mistaken, birds work the same way on that part. Sure, all their parts are hidden under the feathers, but they do have them. Now, this is just a guess, going by the riddle and your usual choice of pokémon, but I've got to know, Ash – does your staraptor have eggs or sperm?"

He groaned. "You're kidding me! That's not it! That can't be it!"

"That's it. You're the hero. You call it!" She sprung away from him, doing a little cartwheel to blow off some of the excitement.

"No. it's stupid. That can't be right." He shook a fist at the barn. "I refuse to accept this!"

Misty decided one cartwheel wasn't enough, and merrily did another while calling, "Solve it, Ash. Staraptor's waiting."

With another frustrated grunt, he shouted to the sky, "He can't lay an egg. He's a boy!"

Staraptor cried out in pain, and there was a soft, distant snapping sound. Then came the happy cry, and wings unfurled to their full extent with proud, strong, flaps. Down he leapt from the roof, soaring straight up in the air before looping and circling to a few feet above their heads. Ash noted that Misty had a little bit of awe on her face. He bet it was from living in the water gym, which wouldn't have a lot of flying type traffic.

"There you go, safe and sound," Misty said, smiling.

"That's was bull," Ash said back.

"I know."

"That's wasn't hard. It was just stupid."

She shrugged. "Well, that's that. The riddle was stupid but we solved it. So now we have your flying type and we can head to the League and pick up Gary. You said getting people is the physical part, right?"

"Right," he agreed.

She nodded, looking back at him. "Well, I bet he won't let me help you there. So why don't you take staraptor and Pikachu and fly to your next challenge? You can take care of Gary, rescue him, and once you finish with it you can send staraptor along to find me and take me."

"Why go separately?" he asked.

"What do you mean _why? _We don't both fit on the bird, do we?" Staraptor landed and gave an angry click her way at being called 'the bird', but she rolled her eyes and continued, "I'm amazed one person can fit on it." He clicked his beak at her again and she sighed impatiently, glaring at the creature she had been amazed by moments before. "Is there anything I can say that _won't _tick you off?"

"Try a compliment," Ash suggested.

"You're very pretty. I can tell you preen well," she said, and staraptor cooed, preening a feather with all the pride of a cat licking its paws clean. Content that she was in the thing's good graces, Misty waved Ash on. "Hop on the pretty bird and go save the jerk."

"No way!" he protested. "We can't split up. Who the hell knows what's out there?"

"He said there wasn't anything, and even though it's ominous as hell, we might as well believe him. Besides, I can take care of myself. I mean, I don't have any weapons or pokémon, but I'm a decent runner." She shrugged. "It'll only be a day or so apart. I'm a big girl. I can handle that."

"You're screwed without pokémon if something comes along."

"I can beat your ass well enough." Misty raised the book threateningly, and he flinched away. Point proven, she said, "I can keep myself alive for a day, so go ahead."

He glared. "You just want to get away from me."

"You seriously do bitch to no end, don't you? No, I don't want to get away from you! I'm trying to help rescue Gary as weird as that freaking is. He's probably in a really crappy situation right now, so why don't you be a good little hero and save his ass? This secondary character is going to go get eaten by bugs in the crappy forest."

"We shouldn't split up! That's how people get killed!" he pouted.

"In horror movies," she retorted. "This is an adventure. Splitting up on an adventure is perfectly fine as long as you're a big enough character to meet up again. I think I'm pretty big – I'm the riddle solver, so I'll be okay."

"This isn't a movie!" Ash growled. "That's a real villain and real people are going to really die here, Misty! This isn't a game!"

She sighed. "It is a game. It's his game. You know that. It's serious to us – but he wants us to keep playing. He wants to win, but he wants a good victory, a hard victory, something he can brag about to future heroes as he crushes their dreams. He wants his name cursed and spat and loathed, because the bad people are famous for a whole lot longer." She amended, "As long as nobody tops them."

"So, you think you'll be okay just because you think he wants this to take long?"

"Yes, Ash," she put a hand on his shoulder. "Believe it or not, I was brought here to think. You are keeping me here to solve riddles for you, to figure out what's going on. I'm reading a book, looking for clues, piecing it together. You're saving people, I'm just pointing you in the right direction. But I'm just as important as you are, so I'm not going to die."

She smiled. "Brock'll be fine too. We're going to need the food and the smart guy teaching us how to survive without television. Gary's pretty useless. Once he hotwires a car he's fair game for the monsters to kill."

"It isn't funny," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

She clapped his cheek gently, smiling back. "Yeah, it is. You keep safe, alright?"

"You keep Pikachu," he replied.

She laughed. "You're ki-"

"No." He shook his head. "If we're splitting up, there's no way I'm letting you go alone. You've got to have something. If you don't take Pikachu I'm not flying."

She searched his face, and didn't see much of a chance of arguing that. So she nodded as Pikachu climbed from Ash's shoulder over to hers, and said, "Fine. But you're going to regret it when you get there and you find out you need him."

"Yeah, I'm regretting a lot of things lately," he laughed, and swung up on the bird, zooming up into the sky before he could change his mind.

One of the first things he learned about flying was that flying wasn't like flying. He had first flown expecting it to be like everyone described it; riding a fast land animal, zooming over the sea in a boat, but it wasn't. The wind snatched and stung at his face, making his clothes ripple violently. The feathers were slippery, and it took a lot of strength to hold on and hold steady, especially when they dived. Zooming down gave him the same feeling as a drop tower or a rollercoaster, where his stomach rose into his throat and he lost his breath, and zooming up mostly made his ears pop at the sudden change of altitude. He spent most of him time focusing on whether or not he was getting enough oxygen.

"You've never been to Kanto, right?" he asked the pokémon once he was sure he was breathing okay. Staraptor trilled loudly and gave a little spin – one Ash cursed at under his breath and barely managed to hold on. It was fun when he was prepared – terrifying when he wasn't. "Okay, we're heading straight east…right the way you're going."

Staraptor looked back at his trainer curiously.

Ash grinned. "Yeah, you can go fast, just let me brace myself."

He shifted up, hooking his knees in front of the bird's wings. It would only be a hindrance if they had to make sharp turns or any kind of maneuvering, really, but as long as they were going straight and fast, with the wings locked as rigid as metal rods, it wouldn't hurt – and it gave him extra hold. The seat was more uncomfortable, with the solid block of muscle right under him, but he had practiced enough to be sure he could do it. They blasted forward, and Ash felt himself jerked back, every spot where he held on aching painfully. His legs hooked tighter and his hands seized the feathers in handfuls. The feathers were for balance, as they pulled out much too easily to be anything else.

"You'd never know your wing was broken a minute ago," he laughed, the ground below them blurring.

Staraptor trilled again, and sped even faster. Ash closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, letting himself get carried away in the incredible sensation of soaring. They weren't too far away, so it didn't last very long. He landed by the gates of the pokémon league, stumbling from the bird to the solid ground below. Gary wasn't too far away. No cage, no danger, just him and a pokeball, flying up and down as he tossed and caught the thing in his right hand.

"Hey, Ketchum, having fun?" he asked.

"You're okay," Ash said. There was slight relief in his voice, and a smile. "Here I thought I was going to have to do some insane research physical stunt, like milking a PMSing miltank or something," he laughed lightly. "Let's get out of here before anything else goes down."

"You know what happened the last time we were here, Ashy-boy?" Gary laughed now, anything but light. "You _beat _me. You crushed me, and I gave up my dream of being a Pokémon Master. You just destroyed my whole career, knocking me out so early. All I could do to make myself feel better was to head back to Gramps with my tail between my legs."

"Shut up, Gary," he said, the realization beginning to sink in. "You didn't drop out because of me."

"Yeah. I did, Ash." His face turned into a vicious snarl. "It's all your damn fault. You took away my dreams, you dick. All I can ever do now is follow in my grandad's footsteps. That's it. That's all I can do now that you've ruined me. I could have been something, before you took it away."

"You beat me a thousand times after that," he said, stepping back slowly. "I don't see why me beating you one time would take it away. You proved you were good later on. I mean, I'm still a better trainer than you. Always have been. But it's not like you're a total pushover."

"Who cares if I beat you later? I lost _then_! When it mattered most you completely ruined me! A few backyard matches? Yeah. People care about that. It's your word over mine, and you're the finalist! You've been in more Leagues, and placed better in the ones you entered! Who's going to believe that I won? And, even if they _saw _it they'd think I cheated!" The pokeball was clenched in his hand now, knuckles white against the red.

"I'd stick up for you. I know you'd never cheat, Gary." He swallowed, beginning to make a plan. Flying away wasn't an option, but he was sure there was another way to get out of the fight. There had to be. He said, "You're too stuck up to do it. You wouldn't want to win if you couldn't do it for real. I wouldn't let people bash you."

"Then they'd say it was all a fluke!"

"And I'd stick up for you then!" Ash shouted. "What kind of guy do you think I am?"

"The kind that ruins somebody's life!" Gary threw the pokeball at his head, and, having prepared, Ash managed to duck quick enough to avoid it entirely.

He wasn't prepared for the other boy, taller and stronger than him, to slam him into the ground and twist his arm behind his back. Gary yanked it up, tugged it sharply as high as he could manage to get it. Ash cried out, twisting his head to look back at him.

"And what's this proving?" he snarled.

"Nothing. But maybe I can ruin _your _life a little. Return the mewdamned favor, _hero._"

Gary would have never called him a hero, mockingly or otherwise. Gary had avoided the hero topic like the plague, because it was one of the few areas where he couldn't top the darker haired boy. He realized that this was the unavoidable physical challenge, and whether or not it was really Gary, he was all too glad to roll to the side and slam his other elbow into Gary's face. It didn't hit the nose like he was aiming for, but the cheek, where he suspected it would bruise.

Gary grunted, but held onto the arm he still had twisted behind Ash's back. It was making his arm throb, but he had hurt worse, and didn't have too much trouble blocking it out. Instead, he took better aim and slammed his elbow into the other boy's face again, this time catching his nose and knocking him away. The blood started down his face, giving Ash the time to roll away and jump to his feet. He looked around the clearing for a weapon, because that was what he needed. He definitely couldn't handle Gary on his own.

His thoughts were proved when Ash felt the blow to the back of his head, much harder than Misty's playful slaps, that sent him back to the ground. Spots danced in front of his eyes, blinding him from the next kick that slammed into his stomach. He groaned and curled up, his mind whispering in his True Hero voice, _The longer you wait to move the harder it'll be_, but he didn't know what to do. He wanted to wait a minute for the pain to subside, but when Gary brought his foot into his stomach for a second time, he forced himself to jumped back up.

It didn't bother Gary, who swung at his head again. Ash ducked, just barely missing the blow. He wasn't stable enough to throw one back. Ash tried to regain it, taking a step back and planting it firmly. Another blow, from the same fist, but this duck wasn't quick enough. Gary's fist grazed along his back. Two steps back now, and he managed to trip. Flat on his back as he stared up at his old rival, who wore a cynically gleeful smile, Ash found the nerve to smile back.

This hit was inevitable, and he braced himself for it. It came from Gary's foot, slamming it into his calf. He was trying to break it and, to Ash's relief, didn't succeed. Ash managed to maneuver the thing he had tripped on out from under his back, a thick stick, and brought it up quick. Ash propelled it into Gary's groin, giving it a proud twist as the other boy cried out and dropped to the ground, trying to pull the stick away. Ash didn't let him, pressing harder until he was sure the boy was down.

Then he stood, and raised the stick. "I've already won, so where's Gary?"

"I _am _Gary!" he shouted. "And _you're _the prick that _ruined my life_!"

Ash wondered if it would be the right thing to do to make a joke about how long he had been waiting to beat Gary with a stick, but found his stomach was aching too badly to want to talk too much. In hopes to end it quickly, he slammed the stick into the brunette's head with a light amount of strength, keeping in mind that the head was relatively fragile in parts and that sticks were probably a lot heavier than they felt. "You Gary yet?"

"Yes," he moaned, bruises beginning to show across his once pretty face.

Ash sighed, leaning against the stick. "I did it on purpose. I held back everything until we battled in the Indigo League so you would have your guard down and you were embarrassed all across the nation."

"I knew it!" he cried, bloody spit flying from his lips.

Again the stick came down, this time with a loud crack that sounded the snapping of a neck. Ash pulled the stick away fast, wincing and closing his eyes against the sound. Before he had the time to realize he had effectively murdered his lifelong rival, it cracked again as it all settled back into place. He dared to open an eye and peak, delighted to see the bruises gone from Gary's face, and the confirmation of his not being dead with the words: "Holy shit, Ash, you sick freak."

"You Gary?" Ash asked tiredly.

"Of course not. I'm clearly an orange bulbasaur. Who the hell do you think I am?" he snapped.

Ash was already bored by the situation, his adrenaline winding down quickly, and he folded his hands over the top of the stick, leaning his chin on them. He seemed like Gary now, but he could never be too sure, so he asked, "I made you into a researcher, at the Indigo League. It's all because I made you lose."

Gary glared up. "Yeah, sure. You embarrassed me so much that I could never get over it and swore never to battle again. Screw you!"

"Sorry I beat you up," Ash said unconvincingly. "You were possessed."

He scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure you didn't have any fun."

"I never said it wasn't fun, I just said I was sorry about it. You know, I'm still kinda guilty." He tried not to smile. "Especially about the right in the face while you're down hit."

"I'm upset about the crotch shot, you mewdamned bastard," he snapped back. "That's still aching!"

Despite the fact that Gary didn't seem to hold any real grudge, both letting Ash help him to his feet and talking with Ash on their walk back to Misty, the brown eyed boy did feel guilty about beating up his friend, because True Heroes didn't slam people in the faces with sticks. Everyone died with honor, even enemies, when the True Hero was there. The True Hero could have stopped Misty without wrapping an arm around her neck. He wouldn't have spent the days tiring her out or snapping as the rope. A True Hero _definitely _did not snap their rival's neck.

…Even if it was one of the most satisfying moments of his life.

**

* * *

**

Sorry it took me so long to update. I mean, wow, two whole days to put this chapter up. Feels like a month, doesn't it?

All jokes aside, I am sorry that I'm updating so slow. I have to say that this is the most challenging story I've tried to write. I couldn't tell you why, since I don't think it's that much better than anything else I've written, but for some reason this one just feels impossible – this chapter especially. It's also about two and a half thousand words longer. I think this is a reasonable excuse for taking so long.

Hope I didn't disappoint!

EDITS: Typos and grammar.


	5. Red Cars Go Faster

_And as for times, altho' 'tis said by many,_  
_The "good old times" were far worst of any[...]_  
- Edgar Allan Poe, "O, Tempora! O, Mores!"

**Red Cars Go Faster**

Ash had expected tension from Gary and Misty. He had expected name calling and sarcasm, and probably a hit or two from the redhead. He hadn't expected it right from the start, not until Gary was standing in front of her and Ash realized Gary was _short_. Not only had he inherited his grandfather's intelligence, but was stuck with his height as well. He was at least five inches shorter than Misty, which meant seven or eight inches shorter than Ash.

The first thing Misty said to Gary was, "Hey."

The first thing Gary said to Misty was, "Amazon."

Which meant the first thing Misty _did _to Gary was punch him in the face. For the second time that day he was knocked to the ground. However, unlike his last beating, this bruise wouldn't fade the second the fight was over. His eye reddened instantly, and it looked like it would be swollen shut before long. Even worse, a look through the medical supplies proved they had prepared only for the direst situations. There was plenty of stuff for broken bones, sprains, and gashes, but nothing for a blackened eye. No quick bruise fix that they had gotten used to. It would have to fade on its own.

"I can't stay like this!" he bellowed.

"Maybe if I wasn't an Amazon, I could hear you. You're just so far down there," Misty sniffed, looking down her nose at him.

"I'm not _short_."

She smirked, clicking the health kit closed. "Five five?"

He corrected her with a smug, scientific tone, "One hundred and sixty six centimeters."

"Which would be about five feet, five inches?" she said, showing her own mastery of the metric system with a fancy press of the reduce button.

"Five feet, five inches and a _half_."

Ash walked up between them. His hands were held up in a calming manner, and he kept his voice even when he spoke. He thought it made him look heroic. They thought it made him look like an overacting B-movie star. "I think we need to stop fighting and get back to Viridian. Once we're there we'll stock Gary up with as much food as he can carry, me n' Mist will stockpile supplies, and then we'll head out to Pewter. Brock's the only one left in Kanto. We have to get to other regions for the others."

Misty snapped her fingers. "That's right! I meant to ask Gary if he could–did you call me 'Mist' again?"

"Yeah," Ash blurted, cringing away from her stare.

"I told you not to _do _that," she said, then carried on with, "I meant to ask you if you could hot wire a car?"

"Of course I can," Gary said, sounding insulted. He straightened with pride and continued, "One of the most important things when traveling is to learn how to steal."

"_What?_"

Misty agreed, "That makes sense."

"How? How does that make sense?" Ash shouted. "I've never had to steal anything in all my years of traveling! People are nice to travelers, they'll give you almost anything if you ask nice!"

She stuck her tongue out at him, countering, "Hypocrite. We stole a boat once. We even crashed it into a dock and ended up working in a restaurant for it. It wasn't on purpose, and it was all because of the fact that when two of your friends are guys there's no communication and you all think the other one owns the boat, but it still counts."

"It's an honest mistake. Not stealing."

"So, was the bike an honest mistake?"

Gary huffed, "Do you guys have a car for me to hotwire?"

The girl continued, focused entirely on Ash, "We just stole food from the store in Viridian!"

"That doesn't count! This world isn't real!"

Gary pushed himself between them this time, feeling extremely insignificant with them towering above him, and shoved them both back with more force than possibly necessary because of it. He still managed to look more impressive than Ash had, ruining it with one immature question of, "Focusing back on _me _and _my _needs, where's the car and is it red?"

Off came Ash's hat and he rubbed at his head. "We don't have a car."

"Then why do you need me to hotwire one?"

Misty shoved him back, red faced. "Because we're going to _get _one, you spoiled brat! Keep your dirty hands off me!"

He stumbled from the blow, but acted as if she hadn't done a thing. "We can't do anything if we just stand around here arguing. I'm guessing there's cars standing around in Viridian?"

Ash rubbed his head a little faster and stared at the ground as hard as he could. "We haven't seen any."

"Oh. Great. Right. You haven't seen any cars, but you're really, _really _hoping for one and that's going to be enough to make it happen, huh?" He laughed. "Unbelievable."

"Shut up," Misty snapped. "Listen, we've gotten everything else we need. This guy wants Ash to get to the final round, to keep him entertained. We've gotten everything we need so far so it's not that big of a stretch of the imagination to think we'll get a car somewhere."

"I'll take your word for it. I wouldn't know."

"You didn't talk to him?" Ash asked, starting to walk ahead.

The other two followed, Gary holding back a few paces. "Not really. Was I supposed to?"

"He usually sticks around to screw with people," Misty explained. "He's really talkative, and he never says anything. You know, like the old prophet in every fantasy movie ever made? Everything he says turns into a prophecy, half of it rhymes, it's all so vague it could apply to any situation but everyone thinks it's so super awesome dead on?"

Gary grunted. "That sounds annoying as hell. You don't meet him too often, right?"

"Wrong," Ash twittered, finding his silver lining. "He comes over all the time! Maybe you'll get to meet him, and he'll annoy the crap out of you. Maybe you'll be fast enough to hit him. Every time we've tried, we missed. You can probably do it though."

"I don't think I'll take your advice on that," the brunette said as Misty began to snicker.

"Don't hit him, Gary. It only turns out badly. You're only job is to hotwire the car, maybe be a chauffeur. We'll take care of anything else, science boy." She held up the big book in her arms. "I don't suppose you want to take a look at this?"

"I'm fine."

"Hey, if you didn't talk to him, how'd you get taken?" Ash asked.

"Well, I was in the lab, researching-"

"Flirting with a girl," he corrected.

He puffed out his chest, fooling no one with his bravado. "When this starry guy showed up. So I excused myself to go talk to him."

Ash translated again, "He tried to shake him, and when the guy wouldn't leave you faked nice and went to kill the kid behind a trash can."

"Next thing I know I'm trapped in my body, playing catch with a pokeball for days before Ash shows up. Then I get-"

"Yeah, yeah, your family jewels are gold dust now. But you felt like you were waiting?" Misty grabbed Ash's shoulder. "That means everyone here has been feeling time pass, at least since you showed up."

"People could be stuck, or scared – for Dawn, in Sinnoh…it'll take months to get there with anything we have." He swallowed. "She can't wait that long."

She squeezed the joint, then dropped her hand. "If it comes to that you'll have to go on your own. Staraptor'll make the journey if he needs to."

"I can't solve riddles on my own!" he protested. "I need everyone's help!"

Misty groaned and let a hand slap against her side. "Then people will have to wait! I haven't seen a single pokémon here. We can't catch us all pokémon to fly on. You've got two choices, Ash. You can't have everything."

Gary glanced from the road. "Why don't you just ask the guy next time you see him?"

"He's a dick. He won't help," she grumbled. Then, she followed it with a louder, "Really, how fast a reader are you? Faster and better than me, I bet."

"Books aren't really my thing." Gary shrugged. "Only read them when I have to, and slow when I do. I'm more of a do it yourself kind of guy."

Her knuckles went white around the cover. "Double damn."

"Come on, nothing else exciting happened?" Ash pushed.

She flipped it open, skipping back a few pages, then read, "_The hero grasped his rival's knife, the blade slicing through the meat of his hand. The moment his blood touched the earth, the ground began to shake. It cried out for its son. For this was the great power of the Eight Grand Cities and their descendants. Scrandaion called back to the earth, and demanded it to open under his enemy's feet, then bury them in the rocks. It occurred, and his men rejoiced at their victory._"

"That's _so _awesome," he said with a childish enthusiasm. "How can you complain about that?"

"That's just the exciting parts. Most of this is just what war and who fought in it and then lists of all the dead people." She held up the book to prove it and raged, "If you want me to read off twenty pages of numbers and names, all of which I read, by the way, then I will and you can understand how stupid this is!"

"There's nothing positive about any of it."

"There was a hot naked guy on page two thirty one."

"Girls," Gary muttered.

"Oh, and look, naked women." When he glanced over to look at nothing but words on the page, she looked down her nose and sneered, "Men."

They continued on and arrived in the city a little before sunset the next day, and set out on their search for a car. Although none were out on the streets, Gary pointed out there were houses. Houses with garages. Most of those turned up empty too. Again and again they went after the heavy metal doors. The first few were handled with a few of Staraptor's and Pikachu's powerful attacks, but in the fifth, Ash found a crowbar, and the process became easier.

It was the twenty third - as Ash had been keeping count, _loudly_ - garage that they opened that held a car. It was an old Volkswagen bug, blue and covered in rust. The left headlight was cracked, the bumper had a dent in the middle, and the whole thing was covered in a fine layer of dust.

"Blue one!" Misty cried, and punched Gary in the shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?" he snapped.

"Blue punch buggy, no punch back." She pointed at it. "Volkswagen."

"What?"

"You're never played the punch buggy game? That's sad."

He grunted, popping up the hood to examine it. "What kind of game involves punching someone?"

"What kind of game doesn't?" the other two said together, then exchanged surprised looks.

Gary glanced up and smirked. "Looks like you're still on the same loser wavelength."

He studied furiously, his hands getting smeared with old grease as he placed his hands on certain key parts of the machinery. Ash and Misty whispered in the background, trying to see if either knew anything about cars and whether Gary was doing it right. Misty knew how to drive a stick shift, but Ash had watched more racecar races, so both were equally clueless. After some grunts of disapproval, Gary slammed down the hood and said, "It'll probably run, but it's crap. And it's not even red."

"Good job, you know your colors." She nodded Ash's way. "I already told Ash that shapes are my strong point."

"Shut up. I'm not being stupid. I know its blue, but I don't drive blue cars. I can't be seen in this piece of crap."

"Great, because no one _lives_ here. They'll never see you," Ash said. "Hotwire it, please? I've got friends to save."

He looked up at them, then down at the car with sheer horror. "Can't we find some red paint?"

Misty crossed her arms. "Let's compromise. Gary, you start the car and I'll make sure we take the time to look for some car paint."

"Alright," he agreed grudgingly. "But I'll only drive the car out of the city if it's red."

"Bigger issues, Gary. People could die."

"I'll die in this crap car," he muttered.

Ash ground his teeth. "I'm going to-"

"Kill me?" Gary suggested. "Wasn't the first time good enough?"

"You were possessed!" he cried.

Misty hooked her arms around his waist with a sigh and turned him around, whispering, "Calm down, Mr. Pokémon Master. Let the boy work."

Which, to Misty – a girl who had just come out of a relationship and hardly saw Ash as a friend, let alone a lover – was a perfectly innocent action. To Ash, it was the closest thing he had had to intimacy in a long, long time. He shivered at her warm breath on his ear, and felt a growing sense of _oh no_. She was always touching him, he told himself, so he shouldn't panic. He couldn't think about her. He had to focus on anything but girls. He couldn't enjoy it, because he had work to do, and even if he could it certainly wouldn't be with her, because she was too broken up over Aiden and he was not a rebound guy.

"Are you calm?" she asked, still holding him.

No. Of course he wasn't, but he sighed with impatience and snapped, "Yeah. I won't kill him. Just let me go."

She held onto him a moment longer, then walked alone to the other side of the street. She was trying to find some red paint, while he was trying to hide the red that stained his cheeks. Thankfully, the awkwardness wouldn't last too long, as Gary had the car hotwired in ten minutes, finding the gas tank was full and the car was perfectly sound. They all shuffled in, and Gary drove down the driveway, going down the street in search of a store with paint. Ash and Misty both remembered where the stores were, but Misty thought it was best if she gave the instructions. A few streets later and they were driving at a slowbro's pace, giving everyone the chance to look deeply into the shop windows.

"Does spray paint work on cars? Or will any paint work?" she asked.

"For this thing? Spray paint's good enough," Gary said. "We just need it red. It doesn't have to shine, like a good car would. Everyone can tell it's cheap."

"Who is _every_one?" Ash shouted. "Dammit, Gary, no one's here!"

"_I'm _here," he argued.

Misty shouted, "Stop!" and Gary slammed on the break. She almost went through the windshield, throwing her hands out just in time to save her brain from splattering across it. "Holy fuh…you're not driving anymore, you dumbass!"

He threw his hands up off the wheel. "You screamed stop! I thought it was urgent!"

"Spray paint, in the window. Couldn't have planned it better." She paused, and amended, "Except for the brakes."

"Don't scream stop if you don't want it to immediately stop! Everyone knows that!"

She groaned. "Just get out of the car and grab the spray paint so we can move on already."

Spray painting was easy too. Another twenty minutes. It didn't shine, Gary was right on that, but it looked nice. Definitely better than it had before the paint. The cracked headlight looked almost artful now, though the dent still looked terrible and rust still shone through in certain places. Gary was still unhappy with the car, but he got back in anyway. Misty took shotgun to stretch her legs while she read and Ash was happy to take the back to lay down in.

"It's hard to lay down, because the car's so short," Ash joked, his knees bent as his feet rested against the window. "Maybe we should trade places, Gary."

"Shut the hell up!"

He snickered and enjoyed the moment. He figured it would be a while before he got another one like it.

**(PAGEBREAK)**

I apologize for the lateness! The next one will be too, I bet. I had to take the SATs, and next week I have to take a couple of AP tests. If you're wondering why it's so short, it's because I wanted to have a chapter where they all got to be cheerful and happy the whole time. I could have added on the next city, but why ruin the moment?

So, I'd like to give a frickin' thanks to jackinafrickinbox for finding all those little errors in chapter four.

And a very big thank you to snooper roofle who is beta-ing for me!


	6. Pewter City

_We must change in order to survive.  
_Pearl Bailer

**Pewter City**

Ash and Misty fell asleep the moment the sun set, and Gary let them. He guessed they could use the extra sleep, as trying to sleep here seemed like quite the challenge. It wasn't like he needed them awake, anyway. He wasn't really in the mood for talking to either of them. He didn't want to hear about the strange adventure they were having and he doubted they wanted to hear about his sexual exploits. He guessed he could have talked to Pikachu, who was watching the highway pass from the dashboard, but he felt weird talking to the mouse after all the times he'd attacked it in battle.

But he didn't like diving all quiet. He usually had someone in the car with him, or a least had his music programmed into the car. As long as it drowned out the sound of the motor he didn't care. That was why he turned on the radio, even though his rational mind knew nothing would be there. But something _was _there. A country song. With a stifled gasp, he clicked if off quick, hands clenched around the wheel as Pikachu glanced his way.

The song gave him the creeps, because if no one was manning the radio stations, they shouldn't have worked. Despite his growing feelings of heebee jeebees, he was a scientist, so he flipped it on and started scanning through the channels to see if it was a fluke, or his imagination. Unfortunately, it wasn't. There _was_ a lot of white noise, but some stations worked, in a variety of music genres. Finally, he stopped, because someone was talking. They were talking about a battle, about a knife cutting into a man's hand and the earth rising up to help him.

"_And then came Ash Ketchum,_" the voice said, and Gary suddenly couldn't breathe or blink, the road in front of him beginning to blur. "_And right now he and Misty and Gary are driving. They're driving to go see Brock, because he's waiting. Maybe he's in prison. Who knows? Look how fast he's driving to get there! Fast, fast, fast! But he can't get away because I'm everywhere! The radio is in the car with you! No matter how hard your foot presses on the gasp petal you can't get away!_"

The voice cackled. "_Can't get away, Gary!_"

"Gary!" Misty shrieked.

The next thing Gary new, Ash was climbing over him, panicked, trying to grab at the emergency break. Misty had seized the steering wheel, holding it tight against his arms which were straining sideways. Gary squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and opened them a second later with a clearer mind. He was trying to turn, so he fixed it. He stopped straining against Misty's hold and set the wheel straight. His foot was pressing the petal down flat, so he fixed it. He eased off and slowed them to a comfortable forty miles an hour.

"Gary, what the hell was that?" Ash whispered.

"He was on the radio." Gary's voice cracked. Horrified, as it had never happened to him before, he cleared his throat and excused it as the beginning of a cold.

Misty leaned against the window, hand over her heart. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Your weird guy." He swallowed. "He knows where we are and he was talking on the radio."

"Oh crap."

"Such vulgar words, my dear boy! Is that what a true hero would say?" The teens stared back at the radio, while Pikachu climbed over one of the nearest speakers and began digging at it furiously with his front paws. "Come now, I can't see you! This is a radio, after all. I can only hear you. Speak up, won't you?"

"What do you want?" Misty snapped.

The voice giggled. "Good job, finding the car. Now you can get to your friends quicker. Don't know why you'd want to, though. You know they won't die."

"A dead friend isn't a prize," Ash quoted with a growl.

"That's true! A nearly dead one is, though. That's all that matters, them being alive."

Misty spat, "You're disgusting."

"Aw, Misty." There was the slow, disappointed sound of a clicking tongue. "That's not sick. _This_ is sick."

Then, she thought she was on fire. She thought she felt the pain of it grab her whole body at once, rendering her unable to do anything but arch her back and scream. She thought the heat of it poured into her mouth as it opened, and she thought she breathed in smoke and ash, and tasted their bitter taste on her tongue before the fire seared off her tongue. She thought she gagged on the smell of burning flesh, burning hair, and the horrible crackling and popping she thought the fire made.

To the rest of the car, Misty was screaming and thrashing for no good reason. As quick as he could Gary swerved to the side of the road and slammed on the breaks, leaving Ash to jump out of the car and rush to the shotgun door. He ripped it open, letting her crash to the ground. Then he pulled her up, wrapping his arms around her to keep her still, and whispered whatever words came to mind. Most of which being the simple phrase, "You're okay." Rather from that or merely the boredom of the star-haired man, her screams began to fade.

"Does the fire hurt, Gym Leader?" The voice inquired, blaring from the small car speakers. "Imagine how Aiden felt."

She pushed her head into his chest and begged, "Oh, _Mew_, Ash. Just kill me."

"What do you want?" Ash snapped.

"There will be a boat. In Pallet," the star haired man said cheerily. "You can go to every other region from there."

"I don't know how to run a boat," Gary said.

"That's fine," the man said merrily. "You won't be there."

"I can run a boat," Misty whispered, lifting her head slowly.

"It's a fast boat, don't worry!" he consoled. "I'll even give you a map!"

The radio turned back to white noise, and Ash turned his attention back to Misty. "You okay?"

"Give me a minute," she mumbled. She waited in his arms for a moment, then shakily got to her feet to hide behind the nearest tree. The boys pretended they couldn't hear her crying, and, when she came back with red rimmed eyes and a splotchy red face and said, "I had to go to the bathroom", the boys said "Oh".

Then Gary started the car, with Pikachu cuddled in Misty's lap and Ash stiff as a rod in the back seat.

They made it to the city in the early in the afternoon, with no more radio and no more talking. Gary parked the car along the side of the road for a moment, turning to look at the eerily quiet Ash and Misty. They weren't sleeping anymore, but they hardly seemed awake. Their eyes seemed glazed over with though, hardly taking in the city. Gary took it in, and after shivering at the empty, lightless stone buildings, he started the car once again.

"I'd go to the gym," Ash said, smiling weakly at Gary. "That's where I met Brock."

"What about that?" Misty asked, pointing out the window.

Gary hit the breaks, staring at the rock cave which he swore hasn't been there a minute ago. Yet, there it stood now. It was the size of a large tool shed with a square, human cut looking hole that seemed to be the entrance. Outside, a giant, neon, blinking arrow pointed them to the entrance. It was comical looking, to the point where Gary gave himself a small pinch to make sure he was really awake. Misty, who had seen the pinch, grinned and said, "Although this _does_ feel like something Bugs Bunny would walk into while chuckling about his victory over rabbit season."

The brunette nodded. "This definitely looks like a trap."

"If we know it's a trap, then we're probably pretty safe," Ash exclaimed.

Misty glared. "That is the _dumbest _thing you have _ever _said. That's like saying, 'Oh, I know the bullet's coming so I won't die when it hits me'. It doesn't work that way, you idiot! Not unless you _avoid the trap!_"

"I'm going in," Ash decided, still excited. "You coming?"

"No!" She pointed. "There's a freaking neon sign, Ash! You can't get any more obvious about what is and isn't a trap! The bad guy is telling us where he wants us to go!"

"I'm going in," Ash repeated, smirking now. "You coming?"

She sighed, and with a grudging, "Yeah," pushed out of the car, letting Pikachu bound from her lap to Ash's shoulder. Fuming, she stomped to Gary's side of the car and opened the door, yanking the poor boy out by the collar. "If we die, so do you."

"How is that fair?"

"Who said anything about fair?" Misty growled. "This is my misery wanting company."

He shrugged out of her hold, glaring and dodging when she snatched at him again. After a few insults and curses, Gary consented to going in with them. Ash was waiting by the entrance, and waved them in like a showcase girl on a daytime gameshow. Misty smacked him for that, but they were glad to be putting the day's horror's behind them. Ash walked in last, hand absently petting Pikachu on his shoulder, and cringing when he heard the scraping, screeching sound of the entrance closing behind him, dousing them in total darkness.

"Oh damn," Gary sighed. "Now we're dead."

Ash poked his back and giggled, "Think positive."

"Misty will probably kill me before I die of starvation."

"Attaboy," the girl called from up ahead. "So, do you think we should start the hand holding, or are we just going to assume no one is quietly being assassinated in the dark?"

"Depends. Do we get to go home if Ash dies?"

"I'd guess so," Misty said, striding forward in the dark. Her hands were straight out in front of her, and she was placing her feet carefully, so she was able to walk with a decent bit of confidence that she wouldn't slam into any walls or trip over any rocks or falls into any pits of death. "Though I don't really get what we're supposed to be doing here."

"It's Brock, isn't it?" Ash asked. "I mean, I met him here in Pewter, and that's who we're here to save, so he should be here."

Gary frowned. "Then what's the challenge? Stumbling around in the dark until you find him isn't that hard to accomplish."

There was a loud smack and a female cry of "Shit!" as Misty came into contact with the far wall. Content to know her perimeter, she began shuffling around, spreading her hands along the side as she went, feeling for passageways. "In case anyone cares, I'm fine. There was just a pointy part on the rock I just slammed my hands into. I'm probably just bleeding. Maybe a few broken fingers. You don't have to freak out."

"Sorry, Misty." Ash laughed. "You didn't sound like you were in pain."

"I was hoping you were being assassinated."

"Nice."

"I'm glad you weren't. If you were able to swear before you died it would have been a messy assassin. If I'm going to die, I'd want it to be quick." Gary grabbed at Ash, and, getting the shoulder without Pikachu on it, pulled him back so they could both lean on the wall that was once the entrance. "Don't follow her. She shouldn't be doing that anyway." He shouted, "It would be smart if we all stayed together!"

"Nngh."

Ash blinked. "I don't even know what that noise was supposed to mean."

"It means your sarcasm is not-ow! Mew _dammit_! Twice in a span of what, two minutes?" She ran her hand out, more carefully this time, and met the hard edge of unsanded wood (which meant she probably had a splinter), then even further to feel something smooth and polished. She thought it was either a mirror or a picture frame, and a step over revealed it to be the former, seeming to cast its own light as she gazed it it.

"Are you _kidding _me?"

"What?"

"It's a _mirror_!" Misty shouted. "It's a _riddle! _I know this riddle and I've always hated it! It's not even a riddle, it's like a pun you're supposed to figure out yourself!"

"Can I see the mirror?" Gary asked. Silence answered him, and awkwardly, he replied, "I meant it seriously. I don't want to check my hair or-"

Misty interrupted with, "How do you get out of a room with no windows or doors, only a mirror?"

"Death," Gary suggested. "Heavy artillery."

"Always an option," she agreed. "But you can also look in the mirror and see what you saw, take that saw, and saw the mirror in half. Two halves, of course, make a whole. Then you climb out the hole. Voila, instant corny word play freedom."

Ash grumbled. "Oh, and _my_ plans are stupid."

"Just because you seem smart in comparison to _some _things doesn't mean you're actually smart," Misty said, examining the dull ache of her finger in the mirror. It did seem to be a splinter, and she pushed at it with her fingernails while she talked. "So, if I look in here, there should be something that we can use to get out of here."

"Or you're wrong."

"Drop dead, Oak." She winced as she managed to wiggle the splinter free, complete with a small droplet of blood, and sucked her finger as she peered into the mirror. A few moments later, the mirror seem to cast its light out to every corner of the room, including the opposite side from her, where Ash, Gary, and a hammer high above them leaned on the well. With a disappointed grunt, she took her finger out of her mouth and snapped, "That isn't a saw. It's not even corny wordplay if it isn't a _saw_."

"What is it?"

Misty ignored him, instead focusing on the black haired boy and commanding, "Ash, move to the left. Wait! No! Sorry, to the right. It's a mirror. It's flipped. A little mo-stop! Now, raise your right hand straight up until you find it. Now feel up the wall until you find it."

Ash's hand froze on its crawl up the wall, his jaw dropping. "And get my fingers sawed off? Wow, thanks!"

"It's a hammer, not a saw." He made a face at her, and she rolled her eyes. "I can _see _that. Just grab it, you big baby."

He did, grumbling, "How's that a word game?" The sledgehammer came off the wall without a problem, it's surprising weight causing Ash to swing it down and almost crack Gary's head. The boy fumbled with it for a moment, then got a sturdy grip on the hammer and asked, "What do I do with it?"

"Smash the mirror," Misty said.

"Seven years bad luck," Gary chimed.

Ash walked straight, dragging the sledgehammer behind him. It made a horrible screaming sound, and Ash seemed to be the only one who didn't care. She took his elbow and pulled him over when he was close enough, glad his arrival marked the end to the terrible sound, and he smirked with a cherry, "You want the honors, Mist?"

"I'll pass." She pinched his bicep. "And don't call me that."

"Still superstitious, huh?" he asked.

"Hit the mirror, Ashley."

He made sure she took a few steps back, transferring Pikachu over to her arms to be safe, them heaved the sledgehammer up and into the glass. Instead of shattering and sending little mirror pieces flying, the mirror shattered and vanished, the sledgehammer following its lead and disappearing from Ash's grasp. Light pooled in from the smaller hole, thanks to the now ecstatic creature who was curled up inside it.

"Monferno!" Ash cried, scooping the pokémon up in his arms.

"Great, we've got a monkey. Not helping us get out of here." As if in response to Gary's remark, the stone door slid open once more to the crisp, fresh night and their deserted red tinted car. "Oh. Never mind. Yay, for the fire chimp."

"Poor thing, it's shaking," Misty crooned, petting his head softly. "It's like the poor thing's got the soul beat out of him. Like when we first found Charizard."

"Don't worry." Ash laughed and hugged the monster close. "He does that sometimes. He'll stop soon."

"It's like a Chihuahua," Gary said, "Only it's a monkey that looks like someone set it on fire. How are we going to carry it around?"

Ash blinked. "Uh, I've got all my pokeballs on me." That was true. They were all right there. Where they had always been. He touched them softly, half surprised they were there. He didn't quite remember having them there, or putting staraptor away in one, but he didn't dwell on it. He shrugged and made his way to the exit. "I guess the guy wants me to carry them around somehow. That's _something _helpful."

Misty raced after him, letting Pikachu leap back to his master's shoulder while Monferno huddled in his arms. "So, do you want to bunk in the Pokemon Center here? We didn't blow up this one."

Gary froze, one foot in the moonlight. "That was _you_? That was all over the news!"

"But Brock's waiting!" Ash protested. "We can't sleep when he's out there with something terrible happening to him!"

She pushed him forward with a roll of her eyes, leading him to the car. "And you're not any good to him dead, which you will be if you don't rest up, Mr. Pokémon Master."

Gary plowed after them. "How the hell did you blow up a _Pokemon Center _on day one of your journey? Those things are made to be indestructible!"

"It wasn't the first day. It was the second, I think," Ash said. "And it wasn't just me. There was a bike motor and Team Rocket involved."

"Back on topic, you don't even have to worry about watch. You can sleep straight through the night. Gary and I will take over your shifts."

"Screw that! How is blowing up a Pokemon Center nonchalant for you?"

Misty glared. "Fine. Forget thepygmy. I'll keep watch all night. I'm rested enough that I can handle it, and I'm sure you two strapping, strong, tall boys can take over for me tomorrow." Her gaze stayed fixed on Gary. "Well, strapping and strong boys."

"Yeah. I'm short. The joke is old. You blew up a _Pokemon Center_!"

Ash spun around, staring at her with huge, puppy dog eyes. "I can't sleep! Brock is waiting!"

"You're going to sleep," Misty said, her resolve wavering just the slightest in seeing his desperation. "If you try to get out of it, I'm sure your pokémon would gladly assist me in subduing you."

"Pika!" the mouse agreed, though he didn't quite understand the sentence and assumed he was encouraging Ash to sleep rather than lead an attack.

The youngest teen stared, horrified. What kind of hero had his friends going against them? Or his pokémon? None that he knew of, True Hero or otherwise. Dumbstruck by how horrible a hero he believed himself to be, he allowed himself to be pushed into the car and driven to the Pokemon Center, where Staraptor broke the glass doors, Misty stole a room key, and the three of them slept for the night.

Though, Misty and Gary did have a late night conversation while Ash snoozed. Misty had found a deck of playing cards, and the two sat, playing War on the carpet. The first few minutes were quiet, just Ash's snoring and the flipping of cards. Occasionally, one of them would giggle or curse as cards changed hands, but it wasn't until Gary had lost nine cards at once, three of which were face cards, that he finally spoke.

"How has he been?" he asked, jerking his chin at Ash's bed.

She sighed, flipping a card over slowly. "Fine, I guess. Fine with the physical challenges, at least. I solve the riddles, but we knew that was coming. Ash isn't a riddle kind of guy. That's alright, because there probably aren't a lot of people who'd be able to do the physical challenges, especially since they're only getting harder."

"He's not freaking out?" Gary asked, flipping his own card. He grinned, and snatched her face card away.

"Of course he's freaking out." She snorted. "We're all freaking out. One minute I'm getting scolded at for not sleeping, then I'm scolding him because he won't. We keep changing our minds over whether or not to keep watch. We don't know how to go faster or save everyone in a fell swoop. The rescues we've done have never been this…"

"Structured?" he suggested. "All that freelance training made you forget how much it sucks to follow someone else's rules, Red."

She grumbled curses under her breath and dropped her head. "I just want to go home, where people don't call me Mist and Red and there's a police officer and a psychiatrsit that says that I don't have to talk about anything to anyone if I don't want to."

"You can't go. You have to stick with him until the end, for the riddles." He flipped an ace. "And you'll have to talk about it eventually."

She flipped a two, and cursed again. Her narrow eyes met wide, curious ones. "You're smart. You solve them."

"I am smarter than you, without a doubt."

"Gee, thanks."

"But you're a liar. You know all the tricks and you can see right through them. That's why you're good at riddles." Gary picked up his small deck and shuffled the cards, and, though Misty still had cards left in her hand, she did the same. "It's a completely useless skill outside of a car dealership and world saving, maybe espionage, but you'd have to be as smart as me for that."

She flicked the top card on her deck. "Boy, Oak, do you ever know how to flatter a girl."

"Yes," he confirmed. "Meanwhile, the ability to recite a book and draw critical conclusions from data is a skill that has many high paying job opportunities."

"Glad you're well off." She laughed. "Promise to tip me while I'm serving you at the late night diner?"

Gary shrugged. "Hey, you never know, that gym thing could take off."

"Maybe. If not, I'll just mooch off my sisters. After all, beauty lasts forever."

"Good plan."

They went back to their cards for a while, then Misty asked. "What did dying feel like?"

He shrugged again. "It didn't feel like anything. I didn't feel any pain from the fight, actually."

She frowned. "None?"

"None. Did you?"

She held up her hands, which had the slightest hint of yellow around the joints. "They're still stiff from pounding at the cage. They used to be bruised. They got fixed by my own immune system, nothing magical."

"Does Ash still hurt?" Gary asked.

"During the challenges. He gets healed once it ends."

"Then this guy is picking and choosing who he likes?" She nodded. "And do you know why he doesn't like you?"

"Stories," Misty murmured. "I've got ideas, but they're fairy tales. It's just stuff my mom used to drill into me, when she got all excited that I had the passion for pokemon in the family. Either way, I'll have a better idea when we get Brock, maybe even one of the girls. He could just be misogynistic."

He set his cards down. "What do you know?"

She met his eyes carefully. "I don't. I just…I don't think it started with Ash, and I don't think this guy is a universe traversing god. I don't think saving a girl from a rainy bridge is enough to make him easy to find – not when people do that every second somewhere in the world. I don't think this is as pretty and playful as it looks. This guy is spending a lot of time and energy on this, and I don't think it's because he's bored. He's way too into it."

"You think he's after Ash," Gary guessed. "Specifically Ash."

She hesitated, then whispered, "Ash has been a hero time and time again, but whatever he does here, he can't be a hero. He's just a…a…"

"Target," Gary finished. "And if it's about saving yourself, you can't be a hero."

"Exactly," she said. She set her cards down. "Gary, I'm telling you everything I know, honest, and most of this is just gut feeling, but if you see a single thing, _anything_, that talks about Chosen Ones or gym leaders or anything close to that, you have to read it. You _have_ to memorize it, because I think that's what's going on here. I think this has something to do with the crazy fate and future of humanity junk."

He raised his eyebrow. "Ignoring the fact that you just called the future of humanity junk, do you have anything else to tell me?"

She thought. "There's something off about the guy. Not just that he's a demented freak, but…for someone who has all this power and knowledge, he doesn't seem to know what he's doing. He's constantly changing his mind. It reminds me of Ash when we used to travel together. Whenever we got the menu he'd keep jumping around with his choices, right up until the waitress took his order."

Gary nodded, then changed the topic. "You _are _going to talk about what happened. Not to me, but with Ash. You know you are. You might as well get it over with sooner so you can focus on other things."

"I'm never talking about it again. It was bad, it happened, and I'm just going to mope over it until I die."

"Sounds logical."

"Bite me."

"Red, whether you like it or not, that idiot sleeping over there is your best friend. He makes you feel better, and you're going to want that from him the longer you're here. You're not going to be able to handle that on your conscience when there's a psychopath chasing after you."

She grabbed his cards as well as hers and shuffled them together, keeping her eyes glued to the flashing, stiff pieces of paper. "He makes me feel better when he's saving the world. And he's not doing it now. You said it yourself."

She stopped shuffling the cards, still staring at them, and whispered. "Ash isn't a hero."

**

* * *

**

Um…I'm not dead. Yay?

Sorry it took so long! I've edited this for the past two days, and finally managed to be somewhat satisfied. This, my last week of summer, is my first week I'm spending at home. The rest of it was spent doing college visits and family business and a five day trip to Disney and Universal, where I drank pumpkin juice and got as much Hufflepuff stuff as I could carry. I finished up the two thirty page each science packets, did a few reductions for English, and still have to write journal entries and do an online history course before my homework's done, and school starts on Tuesday! I was also diagnosed with OCD (which I totally didn't see coming, thought, apparently, I'm more obsessive than compulsive) and spent most of my time adjusting and hiding (from scary relatives) my medication.

Hopefully, the next chapter will be out sooner. If this is riddled with typos, please forgive me! Tell me any that you see and I promise to fix them up as quick as I can! I'm still very much into this story, and plan to see it through until the end!

Thanks to everyone who waited and to everyone who still wants to read this! It really does boost my spirits.


	7. Brock, the Caretaker

_By the time they were back at the end of the ward Linda was dead.__  
__…__  
__"Now, who wants a chocolate éclair?" [the nurse] asked in a loud, cheerful tone.__  
__"Me!" yelled the entire Bokanovsky Group in chorus. Bed 20 was completely forgotten.__  
__- _From Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley

**Brock the Caretaker**

Ash had already prepared himself, so there was no dramatic pause before he opened the gym door. He strode in as easily as if he was walking into a pokémon center, or his own home. Misty and Gary walked behind him, not managing to pull off the same fearless leader look he had. Not that it mattered, as the look vanished the very moment they were able to see what challenge lay in store.

It wasn't because the challenge looked especially hard, as he didn't think it would be anything he would have too much trouble with it, but because Brock was not only in pain, but conscious of it. The eldest boy hung from the wall of his gym, suspended by thick chains carved from pewter. His arms were shackled straight above his head, wrapped in a thick case of rock. On either side of him, a waterfall sprang from the wall, pouring down into a pool. At the top of each waterfall, there was a key hanging from a large, iron loop.

Ash glared. "This is just like yours."

She swallowed, clearing her throat awkwardly. "At least there aren't any bugs."

He glared at her, then glanced at Gary. "Nothing clever to say?"

"He's hanging by his wrists. I'm a little traumatized right now," Gary said, gawking. "If you'd give me a few minutes to get over the sight of someone being tortured, I'll get back to you on that clever comment thing."

"Brock!" Ash called. "Are you alright?"

His head lifted slowly,and his mouth moved as if he spoke, but the water rushed too loud to hear him.

"We can't hear you!" Gary shouted back. "Ash is here! Save your strength!"

Ash had already charged to the back of the gym, and was armpit deep in the water. It was cold, but not worse than river water temperature. The stones he touched were smoother than they should have been for just a couple days of rushing water. They felt like river rocks, the kinds that were rounded and softened by decades and centuries of water, not the choppily cut stones the gym was made of.

He looked back at his friends, most longingly at Pikachu, who was furiously pacing in the shallows, fur puffed out with worry. He walked to the edge and rubbed his ears with a quick "sorry" before walking back out again. He grabbed a stone jutting out through the waterfall, took a deep breath, and plunged in. The rocks may have been slippery, but they were placed for climbing. The hard part was holding on. The water pushed at him, making his clothes heavy and making his muscles strain to just keep him in place. Often, he clenched both hands on a single rock. His sneakers slipped if they moved, so his feet were kept still, and when he did move them, he moved them slowly. Putting his head down against the wall gave him fresh air as the water pounded around him. Leaning away and trying to breathe was harder, but doable. Slowly but surely, he climbed, and he managed to reach the top and seize the key.

Ash sighed with relief, half wanting to laugh, when the water blasted him harder, erupting from the wall as if a dam had suddenly cracked all the way open. He was thrown from the wall and crashed into the water, into a pool that was suddenly much, much deeper. The water pushed him down to the bottom, and it was a struggle to get out of its grasp. When he finally broke the surface, he was swearing.

"Ash, you okay?" Misty shouted.

He grit his teeth and yelled. "I dropped the key!"

"But you're alright?" Gary asked. "You hit the bottom, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but it's deeper now. The key's at the bottom," he said, and rubbed at his eyes. "Damn."

Misty rushed forward, because she could swim much better than he could, but she slammed into an invisible wall just a few inches from the water. She panicked then, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized she couldn't dive in after him if he drowned, that she couldn't help pull him ashore if he tired. She shrieked and pounded at it, hoping to fight her way through, until Gary gently pulled her away.

She and Ash exchanged a look, then Ash nodded, took a breath, and swam down. The pool was about nine feet deep, not that Ash could tell. He just knew that the pool was deep and the rushing water made a current that, wherever the key was, it wouldn't be there for long. The first dive was useless, but he expected that. He spent that dive sitting on the bottom, seeing if he could see any glint of metal. He couldn't, so he pushed to the surface and dove again. That time he really searched. He still came back with nothing. On the eighth dive he had to take a rest to keep from fainting. On the ninth he glimpsed the key and, much to his delight, got it on the tenth. He clutched it and flopped himself onto the rocks, panting.

"Ash, you okay?" Gary called.

"Yeah. Fine." He laughed, and shook the key at them.

"Ash, you idiot!" Misty shrieked, the air around her still crackling with her fury. "Take your pants off!"

"What?" he giggled, rolling to look at her.

"Take your clothes off, you idiot. They're soaked." She watched him as he did, quickly kicking off his wet shoes and socks, his hat and vest and shirt, his pants, and, stupidly, went to remove his boxers as well. She yelped, blush rising to her cheeks, "Oh, Mew, Ash, don't take your freaking underwear off, you moron! I want to keep an eye on you, but I'm not doing it if you're going to climb up naked!"

He laughed again. "You sure about that?"

She rolled her eyes and waved him on. He threw her the key, which sailed through the barrier into Misty's hands. Once he was sure she had caught it, he dove back into the pool to climb the other side. This was harder, even without his clothes. He was tired. He stopped after every step to pant and brace his body for the pain his muscles would be giving him. In more than triple the time it had taken to climb the first, he had made it to the top. This time he grabbed the key and held on tight when the water blasted out and knocked him to the bottom. He didn't drop the key. He swam to the edge again and stretched out an open hand. Misty threw him the key.

This part was only hard because his muscles ached. The climb to Brock was easy, if a little awkward that the two had to be pressed together in a strange hug so Ash could reach the chains that bound him. "Hey, Brock-o," he said, grinning at his friend. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Brock croaked, swallowing. "Hanging around. You?"

"That's a terrible joke." He chuckled as he examined the lock, then leaned back with a groan. "Brock, I…I don't have anyway to hold onto you. I can't…I'm not strong enough to-"

"I know," he said.

"It's gonna hurt."

"Go ahead, Ash. Waiting isn't going to make it better."

Ash slid the key into the lock fast, and with a click the shackle opened and left Brock dangling by one arm in the air. He cried out, despite being braced for it, but it urged Ash along to grab the chain and used it as a support to lean on, unlocking the other (with the same key, he dimly noticed) and sending Brock tumbling into the water. Ash dove after him, climbing down so he could push off the wall. He skimmed across the water, grabbing the bigger boy and dragging him to the shallows.

"I hit the bottom," Brock groaned.

Misty and Gary were already there. Gary was ripping Brock's clothes off while Misty stood by with her sleeping bag ready to wrap him up. Ash stayed there, letting Pikachu lick and nuzzle him, curled up beside his head. He closed his eyes and listened, realizing the sound of water had stopped and that he was no longer sore from where the rock had scratched and he had hit the wall too hard. He was only sore in his muscles now and tired. He heard Misty and Gary whispering medical terms he didn't know, and the crackle of a sleeping bag as they wrapped Brock up tight. He heard Brock's chattering teeth and ragged breaths. Then, as the adrenaline poured from his system, he fell asleep.

That was when the star-haired man appeared, hovering over Ash with a gleeful grin. That was when Misty lost it.

"You get away from him!" she screamed. Gary grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back and she strained against his grasp.

The man smiled, leaning down to smooth Ash's hair, his eyes never leaving either Gary or Misty's face. "He's tired, isn't he? He's so worried he hadn't been sleeping well." He clucked his tongue slowly. "Poor thing."

"Keep your dirty hands off him!" She shook Gary off and leapt forward, but he grabbed her again, this time hooking his arms in her elbows so she couldn't get away.

"Gary, good job, holding her back," the man commended, straightening.

"She's not the only thing I'm holding back."

"Ooh, nice line." The star-haired man snapped and a blanket appeared in his hands, red and thick and warm. "Ash could use some heat too, don't you think? He's all wet and that water certainly wasn't warm."

She growled. "Keep your blanket. We've got our own. Yours has syphilis or some crap on it, I'm sure."

"Nonsense, I've got to keep the hero safe." He stretched the blanket over Ash and looked back at them, arms swinging lightly. "But I'm not here to talk to him. I'm here for you, Gary."

"Then step away from him!"

He held his hands up and backed away, and Misty rushed to Ash's side. He was snoring. Pikachu was snoring. She breathed a sigh of relief, because snoring meant alive, at least. The strange man could mess with Gary – Gary wasn't tired, or beat up, or a target. Gary would be fine. She swallowed, looking briefly at Gary, and then back to Ash, and noted that the brunette's face had none of the soft roundness that Ash's face had.

"One of the companions has to go home. And it's going to be you."

"Me?" Gary argued. "Send Brock home, the guy's dying."

"He'll be fine," the man promised. "It's about usefulness, you see – and when it comes to saving the world, you're just not useful. Brock can cook and clean and sew, and he knows these kids inside and out. Misty solved the riddles and Ash…well, I can't exactly just let him go, can I?"

"I think you _can _exactly let him go," Gary growled. "And even if you couldn't, why does anyone have to leave? Ash won me fair and square, you never said anything about having to have a group of three!"

"And what? He gets a whole damned entourage to follow him around? Doing everything for him?" he cried. "It's a challenge! How easy do you want this to be?"

"I'd like it to not be happening at all." Gary smirked, but there wasn't any humor or satisfaction in it.

"You're the one who goes home."

He snorted. "Don't I get to choose?"

"Whoever volunteers is the one to go. But it's going to be you."

"How much time do we have to figure it out?"

"As long as you want." He shrugged. "You just can't leave the city until you tell me who gets to go home."

"Ash and Pikachu aren't waking up," Misty stated, her voice icy.

"Let them sleep. This isn't Ash's decision, after all, it's yours. The sidekicks should get some attention." He grinned. "Who gets to go home?"

Gary looked at Misty. "It has to be Brock. We can't just leave him here and hope he makes it. He needs a hospital, something."

She broke his gaze, a bit of shame flushing her cheeks. "But we need him more than you."

"What?" he gasped.

She repeated, "We need him more than we need you."

"I heard you the first time, I was hoping for an explanation."

"He can cook and clean and do loads of helpful things. You may be able to, but not the way Brock does." She gulped, digging her nails into the heel of her hands. "He can take better care of us than you can, and we get along with him better. He's like our mom."

"You're eighteen, why do you need someone caring for you? Can't you take care of yourself?"

"I can," Misty said with a slight nod.

"And Ash can't?"

"Do you want to take the chance?" Misty snapped. "It takes an argument from either of us to make Ash do anything. If Brock tells him, he'll do it right away. If Ash needs to sleep, Brock will tell him and he'll sleep. If Ash needs to eat, Brock can make him. If Ash needs to stop and think about what he's doing, all it'll take is a word from Brock."

"Well, do you want to go?

She smiled down at Ash. "I hate him, I really do, but I can't leave him. He needs me for the riddles."

He smirked. "You're not useful anywhere but here, Red."

It was quiet, and Misty finally whispered, "Go home Gary."

"I guess this is the end of the conversation, huh?" He laughed flatly. "No more debate?"

"Be safe. Try and figure out who this guy is from the other side."

"You sure?" he said. "I mean, I can solve riddles. It'll take me lo-"

"Gary!" she shouted. He jumped. "Just go home."

"Fine," Gary snapped. "It's me then. I'm going home."

"Perfect." The man sneered.

Then Gary and the star haired man were gone as if they had never been there at all.

So Misty was the only one awake. She stared furiously at the spot they had vanished from, unsure of where to go from there. Finally, she walked to Brock and checked over him once more. His pulse was fast but strong, his breathing labored but deep, and she took care to make sure he was safely wrapped and unable to roll inside the sleeping bag before checking on Ash. After checking what she could on him, surveying his strong, now unblemished body, she settled down between the two boys. Misty had gathered up Pikachu, and she let the mouse sleep in her lap. She watched over them, making sure they still breathed while two fingers pressed and felt the steady heartbeat of the mouse.

Pikachu was the first to wake. Misty held him closer, whispering, "They aren't dead, Pikachu, just sleeping. But Brock _is_ hurt, and he's not getting better. So I'm going to go search the stores for medkits and see if I can find a hospital. We don't have anything helpful in the stuff we already have."

"Pika," the mouse said, nudging her hand.

"They'll be fine. I just have no idea what I'm doing." She smiled. "So I'm going to grab obscene amounts of medical junk and haul it back here and hope someone knows what to do. If Brock wakes up, I'm sure he'll know how to fix himself up. You need to stay and keep watch over those guys."

"Cha," he whimpered, looking longingly at Ash.

"I know. I'm worried too. They'll wake up soon." She took Pikachu from her lap and set him on the stone, giving him one last, long pet before heading out the door.

Pewter was scarier now. The windows were broken, the streets were dirty, and cars were flipped all cross the road. It certainly hadn't been that way the night before. But broken windows were helpful, and she crawled in through a hotel window to find herself a map of Pewter. That was how she found the hospital. With her eyes set hard on the map, she wiggled from the window and plowed through the city, winding down dark alleys to find the quickest way there. She got lost often, but managed to find the place nevertheless.

She strode out of some strange alley, wondering where she was, when she finally saw it. The hospital. It was untouched, with not a bit of graffiti, no broken windows, not even a scrap of paper on the floor around it. It stood over her, the sun glinting off the windows like glaring eyes, daring her to go inside. Her stomach clenched with warning, and she caught herself leaning back, stepping back, as if her very body was repulsed by the idea of stepping inside. She pushed down the fear and stepped towards it, carefully opening the unlocked doors and stepping into the well lit lobby.

There was a list on the wall, like there always was. The directory with arrows pointing and floors listed. She walked up to it and ran her finger down the chart, trying to remember if any of these hospital sections would have what she needed. She didn't know what she needed, however. She hardly knew what half the stuff in the medical kit was for. She hardly knew half the words on the board. She decided to settle for the sprays and shots that fixed up minor wounds like cuts and bruises and set off.

Most of the hospital rooms were empty, the place seeming abandoned rather than unused. Unlike Viridian, which had seemed to be a town full of show houses, this was lived in. Clipboards were laying out, pens flopped on their side. Computer screens flickered with screen savers, most of which had screens half dimmed or half blacked out with age. She decided not to think about the electricity, remembering what it had gotten Gary into. Most of the cabinets she checked were locked, and most of the rooms she walked into were filled with flowers, empty trays, and unmade beds, covered in stiff, rumpled hospital sheets.

She opened a room somewhere on the third floor, and paused, staring at the vase of roses next to the stand. "They're fresh?" she asked.

Misty walked over to them, and carefully ran her finger along a petal. It was real. It was alive. She pulled one out and turned it around in her hands, her mind becoming hazy with the scent and the memories it brought. She snapped herself out of it and put the rose back, and, nervous, backed out of the room as quickly as she could. From that point on, she steered clear of rooms with fresh flowers. Not that she searched for much longer.

"Misty?" A voice said over the speakers. "Misty, to the burn victims unit."

She clenched her fists. "You ass."

"Everything you're looking for is in the burn unit. Full stocked medkits in the burn unit, room six o' three."

"You think it's funny, don't you?" she snarled, glaring around her. "You just love to screw with people, don't you? It's not enough to mess with Ash, you have to get all of his friends while you're at it."

"Misty, your hilarious torture is waiting in room six o' three."

She debated whether or not to go. It was Ash, after all, who was the one being tested. This could really only be a trap. If it was a test, it would be Ash standing where she was. But there was that possibility, however small, that there would be medicine, that he would have exactly what she needed. So, though her toes curled and her teeth clenched, she remembered her friends came first and forced herself up the staircase to the burn unit.

Once she had gone up, she found the map again, scrolling her finger along the list until she found it, yanking her hand back as if the sign itself was hot. Then she turned and continued down the hallway. She hesitated at the doors, because she hadn't prepared herself. Her toes curled inside her shoes. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Then, she flashed out one hand and grabbed the door handle, yanked it open, and stumbled through the door.

Bracing herself didn't make the stench any less unbearable. Her eyes snapped open at the familiar scent, charred remains of living flesh. There were burned bodies charred beyond recognition along the wall. They had hardly any features on them, just slight bumps where the ears and nose were supposed to be, and hollows to mark the mouth and eyes.

She immediately stepped back, head flat against the door. The voice over the loudspeakers continued its taunting drone. "Misty to room six o' three. Misty to burn unit room six o' three."

The redhead put one hand to her nose, shut her watering eyes, and went back into the room. She strode straight forward, unable to sense the burned bodies she knew surrounded her. She put her hand on the wall, feeling for each room. She walked past one, knowing she walked past it as the door was open and her hand fell into open space. Then, just past it, she stopped and backed up, sliding her hand in and around the hole. She felt the bump of the doorframe, and then the flatness of the wall. It wasn't a hallway, and satisfied with that, she continued on.

Past the second door, she followed the same strategy. Again, she assured herself that this wasn't a hallway by reaching in and fumbling around. She walked to the next door, heart racing with the thought that she should have been able to leave the place soon, and reached in. She stepped in and opened her eyes.

"Too far!" the loudspeakers sang.

She was screaming too loud to hear it. The room was full of less charred, identifiable corpses. Ash, Brock, her sisters, other close friends and family. Their clothes were almost intact, but scattered with holes. Her knees went weak beneath her, and she gripped the doorframe to keep her steady. Black faded in and out of the corner of her eyes, and somehow managed to fling herself backward. Her hands slammed over her eyes, laying on the cold tile while she calmed herself.

"Misty, you're needed in room six o' three, not six o' five."

She wiped furiously at the tears. "Stupid. Evens on one side, odds on the other. So stupid!"

"Very stupid, and you even went through the trouble of checking for hallways." She opened her eyes and found the star haired man staring down at her, grinning that infuriating grin. "Any last words, before you frighten yourself to death?"

She blinked up at him, her lips parting to curse at him, and he leaned down to catch her words. Fascinated, she stared up at his face, and suddenly forgot her curses. She breathed in slowly, then murmured, "Why do you look like Ash?"

He leaned forward, just a few inches from her face, and for a moment she was terrified that he would either strangle her or kiss her, then his lips gave the slightest twist up, and he placed a rose in the space between their lips. "Rest in peace."

The flower's scent flowed across her nose, and she was slowly dragged into a memory. The man's face swirled in front of her, and she desperately tried to pinpoint how he looked like Ash, and what the strange expression seemed to be on his face.

She was gone before she had the time to realize either.

**

* * *

**

Pikachu spent his time hovering over Ash. He did care about Brock, of course, and did turn to check on him every so often, but the bulk of his time was spent pacing around Ash. So Pikachu was aware the exact second Ash's breathing changed. With a happy twitch the mouse leapt onto his chest and pushed his nose against the boy's face, mumbling happy "cha!" noises as he investigated every bit of his trainer.

He laughed, raising a hand to push him off his face. "Hey, buddy. What happened?"

Pikachu cocked his head to the side.

"What happened?" he repeated. "After I saved Brock, did I fall asleep?"

"Pi."

He looked down and frowned at the red fluffy mess that covered him. "Where'd the blanket come from?"

"Chupika," the mouse growled remembering the scent.

"That jerk?" Ash yelped. Pikachu scrambled off him as the boy sat up and ripped the blanket away, tossing it as far as he could. "Why didn't any one take it off?"

"Pikachupi pika," the pokémon whimpered. He flattened his ears and dropped his tail low in shame.

"Misty left?" he asked, spinning to look for her. "And Gary's gone too. They're not…the star haired guy didn't kill them, did he?" Pikachu calmed him and shook its head rapidly. "Well, that's good. At least they're okay."

He rubbed at his eyes. "Is Brock still asleep?"

"No," Brock sighed. "Thanks for asking."

Ash laughed, turning to the older boy. "Hey, Brock. Do you know what happened to everyone?"

"Not a clue." He pushed himself up, and groaned as his body complained at the effort it took to sit. "I don't remember anything after you undid the chains."

"You don't look very good," Ash admitted, afraid to go closer. "I guess you didn't get healed after the challenge either."

He coughed and shook his head. "No, who else didn't get healed?"

"Misty didn't get fixed. Gary and I were healed after the challenges."

"That must be nice."

And, as if he had to say something to throw off the niceness, he blurted, "I killed Gary."

"_What?_"

"He came back." Ash paused. "I also practically castrated him. But he's okay now. I mean, if he heals you, he really fixes you up."

"Gee, Ash, I'm almost feeling like I didn't go through anything that bad." Brock grinned. "How bad do I look?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

Ash winced. "A walking, talking, corpse."

"Could you lie?"

"If there were girls here, they'd be stealing your phone to program new numbers in." Brock laughed weakly, and Ash smiled with him, then asked, "Do you know what's going on?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I was conscious through the whole thing."

Guilt yanked at his heart, and he hid his eyes with his hat, tugging it down sharply and ducking his head. "I meant, do you know why you're here? Because…because it's my fault you're here. And I'm really sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

"It's alright. You came." Brock smiled. "It's not like you wanted this."

"Mew no!" he gasped, looking back up.

"So, how-"

Ash interrupted, plunging into the story. He told him that the girl he saved and the star haired man, about all his friends getting captured, and the hero test he had signed up for. He told him about the fake mother, the tests, and the friends he still had to save. And then, thinking of those friends, his voice cracked and he had to stay silent until the feeling passed, because heroes didn't cry in front of the victims, especially not if the victims were the only ones hurt.

"Do you know where Gary and Misty are?" Brock asked quietly.

"No," he said, "but Pikachu said they're fine."

"What are they doing?"

"Raiding the town, I guess. Looking for foods and medicine and anything else we need." Ash swallowed. "Do you need something?"

"I'm fine, Ash."

"You're sure?"

He laughed. "You did a good job, Ash. I'm fine."

* * *

She was decently drunk. Not really, of course, because one small part of her knew that she was only remembering, but she definitely remembered being decently drunk. Her eyelids were heavy with rose flavored sake and good food and long periods of bonding with her older sisters. Daisy used a cool hand to smooth her hair back and, when the eldest sister got no response, pushed Misty's bangs back and caught her eyes. "Are you alright, kiddo?"

"I'm drunk," she informed sleepily, leaning into the hand. "How come you're not?"

"Because you're the only one who drank yourself under the table," Violet giggled. "Stupid."

"I'm not," she protested weakly, raising her head. "My tongue feels weird. Give me something to drink and make the weird go 'way." Her hand groped blindly for the bottle, and she brought it to her lips. They clamped shut around the bottle and she tossed her head back, appalled to fine the thing empty. She pulled it away, slamming it on the table and looking at it with a betrayed horror in her eyes. "It's gone!"

The other three laughed. "That's how you know when you've had enough."

"That's how _you_ know, I'm learning my limit." She grinned and leaned into Daisy's side. "Give me s'more. I'm not drunk enough yet."

Lily promised, "You're plenty drunk."

"You don't know that. You don't know if I'm drunk." She said, her eyebrows knitting together. "And you're always babying me! I can out drink any of you. Just because you have to stop doesn't mean I do."

Lily sighed, "You're getting emotional, Misty. You're going to regret it in the morning."

"Prove it!" she shouted, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "I'm not crying! I'm just mad because you won't let me drink!"

Then her head fell into her hands and she broke down sobbing, pulling her legs up to her chest. The others rolled their eyes and scoffed and Daisy put her arm around the youngest, who only cried harder and exclaimed, "Mom is dead and you're a terrible substitute!"

"I don't know how she can say all those big words…drunk," Violet said, staring. "That's probably alcoholism."

"Ignore the buzzkill, we're all officially drunk," Lily said cheerfully. "That means it's time to reveal secrets. Have you screwed Tracey yet?"

"Of course she hasn't!" Misty gasped, jerking out of Daisy's arms.

"You don't have a crush on him, do you?" Lily accused.

"Of course not," she said spicily. "He's Tracey. And you don't kiss Tracey. Or Brock. And you're not supposed to…to kiss Ash either. That's a secret rule." She held a finger to her lips, leaving the tears staining her face. "There are lots of secret rules." Her head fell back down to her knees, and she began sniffling again.

"Well, I haven't," the blonde denied.

"Want to?"

"Of course she wants to. Everyone wants to have sex with _everyone_," Misty snorted, as if this was an extremely obvious fact. "But it's a rule. It's a rule not to. You can't break the rule, Daisy. Everything breaks if you break the rules. They're important. They're _important_."

"Well, I want to, but he likes…" She trailed off, glancing down at Misty.

"He can't like me," she whispered. "You should fall in love with him. You're not going crazy. I am. And I have Aiden anyway. I don't need Tracey. I've got Aiden."

"Stop that," Daisy scolded. "You're not going crazy."

"Am too! It's happening!" she cried, clutching to her sister's arm. "Water douse the fire, soon to be released. Thousands years pass us by and then love will feel the heat." Her face crinkled again. "I think. I might have said it wrong."

Daisy shook her off, scowling. "I _said,_ stop it. Those are fairy tales."

"Mom said they were real." She buried her head in the woman's chest. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but I don't want to go back. I don't want to burn."

Violet grinned. "Did someone slip her something?"

"You know how mom was," Lily said. "Once Misty showed promise as a leader she went crazy over it. She got all those creepy stories stuck in her head."

"But…" Daisy swallowed. "Isn't it possible?"

"Oh, Days, don't tell me-"

"No, I don't mean…" She sighed. "After everything she's done with Ash. Doesn't it…doesn't it make you doubt how much of that stuff was a lie?"

"Daisy, they're fairy tales," Violet snorted, waving her hand in the air to order another bottle. "They're in a fairy tales books, right between magical superpowers and Atlantis."

Misty raised her head slowly. "It's real, but it's okay if you don't believe me." She kissed her sister's cheek. "It's okay, Daisy. It'll be okay, even when I go crazy."

**

* * *

**

Then she was back on the tile floor, a rose on her lips and the star haired man standing over her. "You look less bitchy when you sleep. I should knock you out more often."

"There's no medkit here," she accused, blowing the rose off her face with a scowl.

"No."

She crossed her arms. "You made this to screw with me."

"Yes," he giggled.

"Is there a reason why it's me?"

"Yes."

"Is it my fault?"

"No.

"Are there others?"

"Yes."

"Why us?"

"It's in the book."

"And _why_ are you telling me?"

He smiled, and his voice was cold and calculating as he leaned against the wall and looked down at her, "Because when the time finally comes that I kill you, when you're broken and beaten, to make it all still hurt and keep you sane, you need something positive to cling onto. And that something to cling to is knowing that you were completely innocent."

His words didn't scare her, not at this point. Not because she had agreed to the death, or was prepared for it, but merely completely denied it thanks to the idiocy of youth. Instead, she stared at him. She took in those features, because the features were human. The hair was different, and the skin was different, but the features weren't. The features were familiar. And looking into the shape of his eyes and the curve of his mouth, she asked, "Why do you look like Ash?"

He frowned. "Don't ask that again."

She rolled to her stomach and put her head in her hands, smirking up at him. "Why do you look like Ash?"

He slashed at her viciously and she cried out more in surprised than pain, her back sporting four shallow gashes across it from where he raked. His fingernails dripping with blood and skin he shrieked, "He looks like me, you bitch!" and vanished.

She panted, pushing her face to the cool tile floor. The cuts stung, but they were simple and childish, nothing worse than what she could have gotten from an unruly younger cousin. There was no deep set ache, no paralyzing pain. It was a little human wound. Once she realized that, she shrugged her shoulders and rolled her head and flipped to her back, letting the cool tile soothe her back. And, once a few minutes had passed and the sting had settled into a pain so dim she had to think to find it, she made her way back to the gym.

"Misty!" Ash cried.

She grinned. "Sorry I came back empty handed. The city's a ghost town."

"Where's Gary?"

"Home," she said, and at their sharp glances muttering, "We'll talk about it later."

"What happened to you?" Brock said.

Misty quickly spun to face him, realizing her back must have bled through her shirt when she had pressed herself on the floor. She scowled at herself for not thinking to check, then scowled at him for caring. "Now, don't you dare start worrying. I've got a couple scratches from climbing through broken windows. I came here to bring _you _medical care from your horrible shackling and hanging and rock hitting thing."

"Just take off your shirt," Brock snorted. "I'm not going to look."

"Who said this is about looking?" she snapped.

"I won't look either. Who'd want to?" Ash taunted. "You'd blind them with your ugliness."

"Ash, I hate you."

"Come on, take it off," Brock said, and they both ignored Ash's wolf whistles.

"It's just nails. It's not like someone stabbed me. You're hurt." She paused, and added, "And, trust me, you're going to _be _hurt."

"Nails or glass?"

She blushed at the man. "Glass. I meant glass."

"Who knows if there are germs in this place? You have to stay clean, even if it stings." Brock grinned. "I'm not going to keep calm unless I know you're okay."

"Brock," she argued weakly. "You've been through worse!"

"And the shock is fading. All that's wrong now is sore wrists and extreme exhaustion."

"You're impossible."

Misty sighed finally, sitting down on the cold stones in front of him and tugging her shirt off. She clutched it to her chest and glared at the farthest wall while Brock examined it. There were a few long cuts, but they were extremely shallow, hardly bleeding. Brock searched the medkit they had brought and found something to clean it, though it wouldn't heal any faster than normal. He smoothed the cream on her back, and she arched away, gripping her knees, holding her breath against the pain.

"So that's what you were hiding," he joked.

"What?" she asked.

"The bra. It's blinding."

She laughed. It wasn't blinding. It was a nearly neon yellow sports bra that was ratty and tattered but nice enough to press her beasts flat so she could run without pain. It had stains, several from each sister that had worn it before passing it on, but had been washed almost clear away by lots of bleach and loads of time in the washing machine. Ratty hand-me-downs were constant, and for the first time she realized she was dressed in ratty hang out clothes.

"You should have seen it when Daisy first got it. I swear, it glowed in the dark."

Brock paused to think while Ash joked about why one would need a glowing bra, then jumped in with: "You guys should pick up clothes while we're here."

"I got an extra set," the younger boy said, holding up his backpack.

"Coats, scarves, bathing suits?" Brock asked. They gawked at him. "You two didn't think about this?"

"Hungry," Ash said sheepishly. "We were too busy thinking about the important stuff."

Brock rolled his eyes. "Clothes have a purpose other than just looking pretty you know."

"Blasphemy!" Misty gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth in horror.

"Yeah, the blasphemy is that I can see your-"

"Ash!" she yelped and gathered her shirt back up, yanking it over her head to shield herself. "You jerk!"

"You see me in my underwear all the time!"

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly a delight, Ketchum."

"Is it just me or did the arguments get worse?"

"They're worse," they said together, then glared at one another in protest.

"Well," Brock sighed, "this is going to be quite the experience."

* * *

A special thanks to Siran 774, my formale beta reader, and jackinafrickinbox, my in depth reviewer, for finding all my errors and making it presentable to the world.


	8. Guilt

**Guilt**

The first thing they set out for was the boat. As the sun set just below Pewter's limits, they explored for the vessel, despite Brock's assurance that Pewter was landlocked. Both Misty and Ash were quite positive they would find it, knowing that the star haired man definitely wanted them to go to the next city. After a long period of wandering, the younger pair was proved right as they found the boat. It wasn't large, just an average size speed boat big enough for four or five people, but it sat in a river that stretched out into the horizon, probably to the ocean and to Hoenn beyond.

Brock stared, mouth dropping open. "Pewter is landlocked."

"This isn't Pewter," Ash pointed out. "It's a weird Pewter look-alike. Except this one has a magical water highway so I can go save my friends from mortal peril."

"All this water in Pewter," Misty said. "It's weird. Water's _my _thing."

The boy tugged on his hat and grinned. "Hey, do you think if we go to Cerulean-?"

"No," The redhead said shortly, closing her eyes. "Absolutely not."

Brock swallowed. "We need gas."

"Nice topic change." She snorted. "Do you know where to find any?"

"Yeah. Ash and I can go get it, while you get used to the boat's controls."

She crossed her arms. "Is this because I'm a girl and you don't think I can lift heavy gas cans?"

"No!"

Blue-green eyes narrowed into slits. "The boobs are just an addition, you know. When I got them I didn't have to swap my muscles."

"You don't have boobs," Ash argued.

"I'm in a sports bra."

"That's your way of hiding you don't have boobs." He ducked as she threw a punch his way, and slid back to meet up Brock. "She's right, though! Why can't she carry gas cans? She never does anything anyway. She should help."

Her face flushed with fury. "What the fuck, Ash? I have saved you ass so many-"

"I was trying to be chivalrous." Brock held up his hands and shook his head slowly. "You know, Ash, things like this are the reason you've never had a girlfriend."

"Never had a girlfriend?" Misty asked airily, smirking.

Ash blushed. "We have people to save. Come on, Brock. Misty, read the stupid book."

She sighed, jumping in. "Oh, goody, a chance to read the book of the names of dead people. A dream come true."

"So we're all clear? Any questions?" Brock nodded as the girl raised her hand. "Misty?"

She put her hand down and chirped, "I hate Ash."

"That's not a question."

"I know, but it's a valid concern."

"I didn't ask for concerns."

"Alright, here's a question: Can I beat Ash up?"

"No."

She glared at the boy in question. "Just a little bit?"

"No."

She frowned, clambering into the boat. "Spoil sport."

They rolled their eyes as Misty checked the details of the boat, racked her brain, and spent a good time working out with Brock about how much gas they would need. Ash sat back, occasionally throwing in witty comments about how Misty was probably lying and they would get stuck in the middle of the ocean. Eventually, they settled on a number and the boys go the gas, dragging the obscene amount back, then remembering they would have to recalculate to accommodate for the weight of the gas, went back and got more.

Finally, they strapped into the boat and Misty took her position in the driver's seat, Ash taking shotgun next to her with Brock stretched out in the back. She started at the dashboard for the second, hands wrapped awkwardly around the steering wheel and chewing her lower lip. "Gees, this is weird."

"You don't know how to drive it," Ash accused.

"No, I know how to drive it." Her voice dropped low, "It's just been a really, really long time since I drove one."

"You don't know how to drive it."

She flipped a switch. The engine roared to life, and she gleefully gripped the throttle. "Ha! I told you I could drive it!"

"You flipped the switch that says power!" he protested. "That doesn't mean you can drive a boat."

"Everyone ready?" Misty asked, looking over her shoulder.

"I am!" Brock said.

Ash eyed her. "I don't think you know how to drive it."

"The gas is all locked in?"

Brock tugged on the lid, and sure it wasn't moving, he called, "Everything is secure!"

"You don't know how to drive it!" Ash shouted. "You're just procrastinating."

"Ash," she sighed, grinning at him. "Everything is _so_ much sweeter when you're wrong." She gripped the throttle and threw it down, and the boat roared to life over the water.

"I can't believe you know how to drive a boat!" The boy laughed, gripping the sides of his seat as they leapt through the water highway.

Misty giggled. "I can't believe I know how to either!"

"_What?_"

She never answered his question, instead focusing on keeping herself steady in the bouncing boat. It took a while for them to get used to the waves. The speedboat cutting through the water didn't exactly make for the smoothest sailing, and it wasn't until they got far out to the open and still waters that they were finally secure enough to let go and relax. Brock was the first to do so, and, all stretched out, fell asleep and began to rest off his injuries. Ash followed soon after, still tired from all the effort he'd been putting in. Misty was the last one to sleep, but, eventually, she managed to get herself comfortable and follow her friends' leads.

She woke up first, however, having done the least of all that day, and hardly noticed when Ash woke until he found his voice again: "What'd you do to the wheel?"

Misty glanced over, then gestured at the wheel. "I bound it."

His sleepy eyes scanned it, looking at the knotted twine that held the boat fast. "You tied it up?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"So I could sleep."

Ash gawked, sitting up suddenly. "What's wrong with you? Take the wheel back!"

"Look at the compass." She tapped the glass. "We're still going the same way. I made sure it was working right before I dozed off."

He shook his head. "We'll take shifts."

She rolled her eyes. "This works fine."

"It's _dangerous_."

"Ash, it'll take four days to cross! It's easiest to just tie it and let the boat do what it does best."

"Four days?" Ash repeated.

"It's an ocean, not a lake. It takes a while."

"It only takes a couple hours by plane!"

She crossed her arms over her chest furiously. "Well, it's not a _plane_."

"What do we do for four days?"

Brock groaned. "How about being quiet so I can sleep?"

They bit their lips to quiet their giggles and hushed themselves.

* * *

Ash tapped her shoulder. "Hey Misty?"

"Mmm?"

"Your shift's over."

"Kay." She yawned and woke up.

* * *

"Brock, your turn," Misty sighed.

'What?" he rubbed at his eyes.

"It's your turn to stare at water."

"Oh. Right." He sat up and rubbed his temples, blinking out over the space.

* * *

Brock leaned forward and tapped the boy's shoulder. "Ash, your turn."

The boy moaned. "Ten more minutes."

"Ash, it's your shift."

"Five more minutes."

"_Ash._"

"Fine. I'm up." He groaned. "I'm up."

* * *

"You can't take the money!" Ash protested, the sun beating down on his currently bare back. "You're such a liar! Tell the truth."

"I am telling the truth!" Misty shot back. "I trust you guys enough not to call you on your stuff, why are you calling me out?"

"It does seem pretty unbelievable, you have to admit," Brock agreed.

"You too, Brock."

"My mom always told me you couldn't trust a fisherman's story."

Misty crossed her arms. "I'll telling you, I got a forty pound fish when I was seven!"

"Sure," Ash snorted, throwing his arms out wide. "And it was _this big_."

She sniffed. "It's true."

Brock sighed. "Leave the pot where it is for now. Misty, no more fishing stories."

"They aren't stories!" Misty cried. "They're true!"

"Yeah, _true_," the younger boy muttered.

"They are!" Misty continued.

"And it's just a coincidence that every time you catch one of these giant fish you're alone?"

"Fish like me! It's not my fault they get scared away when loudmouth wannabe trainers show up!"

"Good excuse."

"Well, it's not fair." She leaned against the tied up wheel. "Every story you tell comes with a scar. Your proof is built in."

"Don't you have any scars?" he asked. "You must have gotten beat up at a gym."

She crossed her arms and pouted. "I'm too pale. You can't see them. You can feel them, but there's no way that's happening!"

Ash glared. "You're _such_ a liar!"

"My turn," Brock said, shooting the redhead a look that made her stop her sentence before she started. "Alright, I've never been on a date before." He tossed his coin in the center and waited. The other two said nothing. His jaw dropped. "Aren't you going to call it?"

Misty smirked. "My fish story is harder to believe."

"Sorry, Brock-o. Too risky," Ash apologized, then tossed his own coin in, stating, "I'm afraid of snakes."

"Liar," Misty said, grabbing at the pot.

He slammed his hand over hers. "Nope."

Her mouth dropped. "Snakes?"

"Terrified."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is that information really worth this pile of coins? This USELESS pile of coins?"

"Do you want them?"

"Yes."

He grinned, drumming his fingers on the back of her hand with a sick delight. "Then _oh _yeah, it's worth it."

* * *

The waters were still that day, the boat slid over it with only a gentle rocking that often lulled whoever was supposed to be standing guard to sleep. It wouldn't now, though, because the roped Misty had used to bind the wheel had grown slick with salt water and she was now forced to hold the wheel steady while the ropes dried out low by her feet. Brock had fallen asleep, but Ash was distracted, letting one hand pet the sleeping Pikachu in his lap and the other skimming over the water they were ripping through.

Misty glanced at him, then back out at the ocean, asking, "Are you afraid?"

"You're not?"

She hadn't expected him to respond so quickly, but she guessed he was more awake than she thought. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she wondered, then said, "She could be like you and Gary. May could be healed the second it ends. We don't know why he left Gary alone." She waited for his response, and when he didn't answer, sighed, "Maybe he likes brunettes."

"She's in pain right now," Ash said. "They all are, and I can't do anything."

"You're doing something."

He shoved his hand in the water up to his wrist. "Doesn't _feel_ like it."

She frowned, hands tightening around the wheel. "Who's dead because of you, Ash?"

Ash glanced at her, surprise flittering across his features. "That's not-"

"Who's alive because of you?" she challenged. "If you think you haven't made a difference, you're wrong. You've made a huge difference. You're _wrong_." She forced herself to look way from their path to him, confirming, "You've made a _huge_ difference."

"But they're hurt because of me."

"And Aiden's dead thanks to me."

"That wasn't your fault!"

She shrugged, pushing down the shakes and sobs that bubbled up from the mention of her ex-boyfriend's name. "It's more my fault than this is yours. So stop acting like you're killing everyone. Millions of people are alive because of you. Because of you people are happy and healthy and have happy little families."

"But-"

"Thank you." She cut him off. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you, or if I've ever told you, but thank you for saving me and everyone else. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead a hundred times over. So thanks."

He looked back to his underwater hand. "Stop it."

"No," she snapped. "You do good, so stop acting like you don't make a difference. Congrats, Ash, you make a difference in the world. Deal with the responsibility."

He smiled, pulling his hand out. "You know you're impossible, right?"

"You know what's impossible? That this boat can't go faster," she replied. Misty slammed the heel of her hand against the steering wheel. "It's so slow!"

"It seems pretty fast."

"Not fast enough."

"How long have you been going? You need sleep, don't you?" he inquired

"Not as much as you," she retorted. "Sleep, you have friends to save and you can't do it if you're tired."

"It's open water."

"Sleep, Ash."

He poked her side and she jumped, swatting his hand away. "You'll fall asleep at the wheel."

"Will I?" she snorted. "Good. We'll crash and die and won't have to deal with it anymore."

"Are you scared?"

She stared out at the ocean, hands tightening on the wheel once more. "Do you want me to be?"

The black haired boy rolled his eyes. "I want you to be honest."

"Fine. I'm terrified and angry and guilty and sad and a whole bunch of other stuff."

"Guilty?" He leaned towards her. "Why do you feel guilty?"

"Everyone does, when bad things happen. You just have to remember that it's not your fault."

He snorted. "You didn't say that before."

"I was angry before." She set her chin against the top of the wheel. "I'm scared now."

"You just said you felt angry."

"Not at you." She chuckled a little. "Not anymore, I mean."

Drying his hand on his pants, Ash moved to cuddle his Pikachu to his chest. "And what do _I_ do about being afraid?"

"Be brave, I guess." Misty reached across and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You're good at that."

"I guess."

"I'd hug you if I could," she said.

"Thanks."

And then her hands came off the wheel and she hugged him, squeezing the air from his lungs, while simultaneously being extremely careful to not disturb the electric rodent he held. Her head bumped his awkwardly in her rush, and their bones met in all the most painful ways, before she yanked back and went back to the wheel with a proud grin. "Sorry. I forgot for a second that I can do anything I want."

"And now we're going to Pewter."

They laughed.

He relaxed against his seat. "Y'know, you're awfully friendly, considering how much you're supposed to hate me."

"I like to keep you on your toes."

He grinned, poking her side again. "Better be careful, Mist. You're warming up to me."

"Don't call me, Mist," she scolded. "And I'm not warming up to you. I still hate you."

"The hug says otherwise."

"It was a hate hug."

"You like me," he taunted.

She pushed his shoulder, blushing a dark red. "Oh, shut up."

* * *

"Land ho!" Misty shouted gleefully, standing up in the boat.

Ash laughed tugging at her elbow. "Sit down!"

"No way in hell! I'm so excited I could _swim _to shore!"

"Do it then," he taunted, and with a rough shove she toppled over the side.

"Ash!" Brock cried, reaching up to cut the engine. "What was that?"

The younger boy giggled his contagious laugh, and with a growing sense of hilarity, Brock tried to shove Ash over the edge, only to wind up being dragged in with him. They hit the water with an icy shock, not to mention Ash getting light zaps from Pikachu, who had been dragged in with them. They thrashed to the surface, finding air with more laughter and struggling to pull themselves back inside the boat. The redhead, her hair now drooping and dark from the ocean, confidently breaststroked her way past the boat.

"Mist, aren't you getting on?"

"No. I'm _swimming _to shore, you jerk. And don't call me Mist."

"You can't swim to shore."

"Can too."

"We're _miles_ out."

She stopped to glare at him. "What's your point?"

"You can swim for miles?"

"Yeah, I can. I wouldn't be a gym leader of a water gym if I couldn't." She crossed her arms and used her legs to keep her treading water. "So know I'm going to swim to shore because you're a jerk, and now that I'm wet I might as well."

Brock grinned. "You know, I don't remember too much form the last challenge, but weren't you the one who told Ash that he needed to take off his clothes to swim? I mean, can you really swim for miles in sneakers?"

"Yes. I can."

"Get in the boat," the eldest said patiently, fighting back his laughter.

"I want an apology."

"Sorry!" Ash said, still giggling.

"For what?" she pressed.

"That I don't have a camera!"

She fumed and began swimming again, and Ash turned on the motor and put the throttle on low, letting them coast slowly beside her. "Really, Misty. I'm sorry. I was just messing with you. Get back in the boat. I can't leave you out here and we have to get moving on as quickly as possible."

"I can't," she said stiffly, a blush beginning to form across her cheeks.

"Why?"

"I haven't exactly been _relaxed _in this stupid place and…and my survival skills kicked in," she muttered.

"What's that mean?"

She blushed, ducking her head underwater for a second before surfacing, just as red as before. "I've just got my underwear. The second I saw the boat was still going I took off my shoes and socks and everything so I could swim better."

Ash sighed. "Dark underwear?"

"What?" she yelped.

"Can you see through them now that they're wet?"

"Yeah."

"You care about being in a sports bra?"

"Sort of."

Ash sighed and unbuttoned his jeans, shaking his way out of them and throwing them to her. She grabbed it, and stared at them as if she couldn't really figure out what they were for. "Do you want my jacket?"

She gawked. "What?"

"My shirt, my jacket, do you want them?" He shrugged. "Brock, you're bigger than me. One of your shirts would cover her pretty well, right?"

"Sure. Want mine?"

"No." She wrestled the pants on under the water, then heaved herself over the edge of the boat with a blush. "It's basic water survival, you know."

"I know," Brock said.

"I can see your boobs again," Ash pointed out tactlessly.

She squeaked and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, you've got a pair of wet boxers on!"

"So?"

"So I can see everything!" she snapped.

"I know." He grinned. "It's nice to know you're looking."

She huffed and threw down the throttle, and the boat powered to the land. The closer they got, the more she eased up the throttle. She hadn't timed it perfectly, though, and the boat slammed roughly into the beach. They all jumped out, happy to be on land again, and spent a little while getting their land legs back before they set off in the lovely region of Hoenn to stock up on supplies, and figure out where they were.

Ash looked around. "So…Petalburg?"

"I don't know," Misty shrugged. "That's what I was aiming for. I think we would have come to an inland area if we were in Newbark. Petalburg is pretty open when it comes to an ocean entrance, and I didn't really want to risk crashing."

"That wasn't crashing?" Ash giggled.

"Shut _up_."

"I can't believe I can't remember what it looks like," Brock said, looking over the empty town.

"We've been a lot of places. You can't remember all of them. I just remember the places that were really cool." He looked around. "I hope it's Petalburg."

"Is that where you met May?"

"No, but it's where they have the gym."

"And why do you think she'll be at the gym?" Misty asked. "They're supposed to be where you met them, aren't they? Except for Gary because you two met in the womb or something?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "The gym just feels like the right place."

"Grocery store," Brock pointed out. "Time to stock up."

They swerved to the left and charged into the store, this time with Infernape helpfully melting the glass to let them in. Ash wanted to get water to try and cool it off quicker, and Misty pointed out that cooling off the glass too quickly would shatter it, and then they'd end up crawling through the same glass that gave her the scratches on her back. They climbed through the smooth edged holes once they had cooled, and eagerly went about finding breakfast foods.

Misty yelped in horror, holding up a box. "I have to eat Cheerios. Honey Nut Cheerios! Why the hell do people live here?"

"Typically because of decent farming land and a strong water supply," Ash quipped.

"And they can't get Coco Pebbles?"

Ash stared for a minute. "I've decided I'm not going to try and understand you anymore."

"Okay, so they didn't have Coco Pebbles." She breathed, trying to calm herself enough to tell her story. "So I said, okay, I'll eat Fruity Pebbles. So I try to find those – none. No Lucky Charms, no Count Chocula or Cookie Crisp or Coco Puffs! All they have is Kix, old people cereal, and Cheerios."

"I like Cheerios," Ash said.

"Misty, I'm sure I can make something," Brock said. "You can eat something other than cereal."

"I like Kix too."

She scowled. "This town is ridiculous."

"I'll even eat bran nasty stuff. You just have to dump a spoon of sugar on it and it tastes fine."

"I hope you're eaten by fire ants!" she snapped. "What is this Honey Nut Cheerios crap?"

"Is this a period thing?"

"No, it's not a period thing!" she shouted. "It's not a crime to want Coco Pebbles and get mad when all they have are nasty Cheerios!"

"I'll take them."

"Screw you, Ash," she snarled, clutching the box. "They're _mine_ now. Go get your own box of sugar coated wood shavings!"

He paused. "Are you sure this isn't-"

"It's not a period thing!" she fumed, then darted off back in the shelves.

"Is Misty alright?" Brock asked. "She seems more…uptight."

"She's cranky because she hates that I can make her have fun," Ash explained. "She wants to be all _grrr_ and serious and I make her laugh and then she gets doubly cranky."

"That's it?"

"Think so." Ash shrugged. "Once you get her to laugh, she's fun. Wanna see?"

He didn't wait for an answer, and instead walked over to the redhead. Teasingly, he swept her up in his arms, dipped her back, and bit the top half of the pretzel rod she had just ripped out of the bag and started snacking on. He swung her back up, and took the stick out of his mouth, blowing out an imaginary puff of smoke and sighing, "Amazing."

She giggled, shaking her head, and scolded, "We're supposed to be getting stuff to live off of, not goofing around!"

"I can live on pretzel sticks and sex jokes."

She laughed again, and Brock grinned. It was like old times, for a moment, when Ash's antics could make him forget the situation, forget the oncoming peril for the delight of the moment. That was Ash's strong point. It wasn't that he could be as rigid as a military officer, or that he could come up with an amazing strategy. What made Ash wonderful was that he didn't just keep people alive, he kept them happy.

But he also had the living standards of a raticate, and Brock found it crucial to point out: "Guys, you're forgetting clothes again."

They looked up from their bags of food, bundled under their arms and their backpacks and in their mouths, and blushed as they realized they were being the same ten year olds they thought they had moved on from.

"We're getting to it," Ash promised.

"And this isn't fashion time, either," Brock said, glaring at Misty.

"What's the supposed to mean?" she gawked. "It's not like I run around in big poofy dresses and high heels! I know function over fashion."

Ash spoke around the marshmallow he had crammed into his mouth. "He means we're not spending hours find the perfect pair of jeans."

"So what? I'm supposed to find a pair of jeans in my size and take them without seeing if there are other cuts that are way more flattering?"

"Yes. Find a pair that fits and leave," Brock said. "That, or give me your size and I'll pick out clothes."

She squeaked in horror. "My _size_? Want my weight and cup size while you're at it!"

"Misty, no one's here to see you."

"I'll see me."

Ash growled. "I thought we got _rid_ of Gary."

The next stop was the clothing store. They grabbed bathing suits to use as underwear, just in case water was going to play a part later on. Next up came a few outfits, casual t-shirts and jeans and shorts, and two heavy winter outfits for each person in the group. That took most of the day, not because of Misty's inner fashionista kicking in, as she thankfully stayed hidden, but because it took quite some time for it to sink in that they could get the very best of the best, find the fanciest stores in town and get clothes specially made for travelling. As a result, they ended up wearing outfits that each cost around five hundred dollars each, right down to the durable shoes they wore.

"I'll make dinner, you two look for a hotel with rooms we can get into," Brock advised, comfy in his durable khaki's and green tee. He flicked on the stove of the restaurant they were now in, and looked back at them. "By the time you find something dinner will be ready and we can head straight to bed."

"I don't like us separating," the girl argued.

"Why not?" Ash shrugged. "There's no challenge or anything, and it's not like he's been attacking us outside the challenges, right? We'll be fine."

"But I don't want us to separate."

"Unless this has something to do with the scratches on your back." Ash paused. "Or what Gary heard on the radio. But you said you were fine after both of those."

Anger began to seep in as she remembered the hospital. "Gary's should be enough."

"If your back is scratched by glass, why wasn't your shirt cut?" he stared. "Did you back out of a window?"

_He looks like me, you bitc-_She focused intensely on the boy. "Yeah. I _did_ back out a window."

"Didn't look like glass scratches," Brock said. "Is he-"

"He's out to get all of us!" she said viciously, spinning back and forth between them. "That's why I don't want to leave you alone, Brock. He's going to mess with your head. Shouldn't you be trying to protect Brock, Ash?"

"I want to go to sleep and wake up early. Brock's okay now." He swallowed. "May isn't."

"But…you know, she could be like Gary."

"She's not like Gary."

"But we don't know the pattern! It could be one bad, one good! And if Brock was bad then she'll be fine!"

"Misty," he whispered. "She's not okay."

"You don't know that!" she shrieked.

"She's dying, Mist. And you know it too."

"I don't!"

"She's dying, and Max is dying, and Dawn is dying, and you know it just like I do. That's why I want to get there so fast."

She stood up, kicking the chair she had been sitting on viciously out of the way. It slid back, hit another table, and flipped over on the floor. "Fine! Just leave the sick guy here alone with a psychopath on the loose!"

"We're not leaving a sick guy, we're leaving Brock."

"And what if he dies?"

"_He_ won't."

"How do you know?" she shouted furiously. "Who made you leader? You're just some hick from Pallet who got some super powered pokémon!" She screamed, hugging herself. "And you almost died and Gary almost died and Brock almost died and May's dying and you can't even hit him, Ash! You can't lay a damn hand on him! You let him pick us off one by fucking one and you can't stop him! You're playing his game and you can't even hope to get out!"

"Shut up!" he shouted, leaping to his feet now.

"No! You can't win and everyone's dying!" she screamed. "And I'm going crazy!"

"We all are!" he shouted back.

"Water doused the fire, soon to be released. Thousands of years are slipping by then all will feel the heat. Firey girl, realize it all, let it in your soul." She fell to her knees, staring straight ahead. "Watch it burn and feel the glee as the flames do take their toll."

"Misty?" Ash asked.

She moaned slowly, and pressed her head to the ground, her nails digging through the cloth of her yellow shirt. "I don't want to be crazy."

"You're not." He looked over his shoulder. "Brock, help."

The older boy was already coming over as she started to shake. "Misty, what are you doing?"

"In the book. Mommy read it to me. I know the story but I can't remember it but it's in the book but I don't know where." She swallowed, her mouth feeling dry. "I want to make him stop. I have to make him stop."

"Is she-?"

"Hold on, Ash."

"You know what's going on?"

"I know there's stories, and I know there's prophecies." His hand slowed on Misty's back. "And I know it's usually girls who tell them."

"Do you think there's a prophecy?"

"There is," she whispered. "There is, and it's not just for Ash."

"Is it for all of us?"

"What us?" she gasped. "Not me or Brock! No! But you, Ash, all of you."

"What does that mean?"

Misty breathed out slowly, letting her head loll back. "Dunno."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

Her eyes narrowed. "He's been cheating, that's what."

"What do you mean?"

"Mind tricks." Misty looked up at Brock. "He'll go after you next."

"I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" she replied. "He's good at this."

"He'll get me either way." Brock rubbed her back one more time. "Just go."

Ash stared at her. "Should you be going?"

She glared. "Is this more chivalry crap?"

Ash fumed. "You just had a mental breakdown and miraculously recovered in a few seconds! I think it makes sense to be a little nervous about taking you into the city."

"Brock's in worse condition than I am."

"Brock's fine!" He threw out his arms. "Why are you obsessing?"

"Why are you obsessing over me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you think you set your boyfriend on fucking _fire_," he snapped. Then gasped, jaw practically hitting the floor. "Oh, Mew, Misty I-"

"Fuck you," she snarled, storming off.

"Why do I suck at this?" he moaned to Brock.

"Go follow her until she calms down, then find shelter."

"It's not me, right? She just had a _breakdown._ Thinking she shouldn't go isn't stupid, right?"

"I don't know, but I wouldn't leave her alone," Brock suggested.

"Crap." Ash turned on his heel and raced off after her. "Misty, wait up!"

"No," she snapped, slamming the door behind her.

He groaned, racing up and grabbing her shoulder. "Misty, don't run off on your own!"

"It isn't fair!" she cried. "Why is he coming after me?"

"The past few months have sucked for you. Maybe you're an easy target," Ash suggested.

Misty sighed, looking at him again. "Promise not to hate me."

"Why?"

"Promise!" She begged, "Please."

He rolled is eyes. "Why would I hate you?"

"Ash, just promise. It's important."

"Fine," he sighed. "I promise."

"I want him to pick on Brock. I want it to be someone else besides me." She swallowed. "He makes it feel like it's my fault."

"Is that what you felt guilty about?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"That's this guy's game. He gets inside your head and makes you feel like it's all your fault." He brought her into a hug, and though his wasn't as rushed at hers had been, it was no less awkward. "None of this is our fault, remember? It's the jerk who's doing it. He's the guy to blame."

She leaned her forehead on his shoulder, not quite short enough to hide it in his chest without straining her neck. "And your fault too."

He laughed. "You're the sunshine of my life, Mist. That sunny attitude really brightens my day."

"Misty," she corrected softly, then pulled away. "Where are we going?"

Ash felt Pikachu climb onto his shoulder, and a bit of the warmth he had lost when Misty had pulled back returned to him. "Why are you asking me?"

"_You've been here before,_" she said slowly, staring at him as if unable to believe his stupidity.

"I don't even know what town this is."

She groaned. "Useless."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Sorry. Let's go straight until we see something cool."

"Like a Pokémon Center?"

"Imagination, Misty." He put an arm over her shoulder, careful that it wasn't the one his faithful monster was settled on. "Think five star hotel complete with minibar and Jacuzzi and swimming pool and big, fluffy beds we can jump on and have pillow fights."

"We have all the food we need. I'd rather swim in the ocean. The Pokemon Center beds are fine. I don't want to have a pillow fight."

Ash swept out his other hand in front of them, as if painting a picture. "Think of the indoor heating in the pool."

She rolled her eyes. "Chlorine makes my eyes burn."

"You'll find a way to complain about anything, wouldn't you?"

"Only if you say it."

* * *

The star-haired man sat on the counter next to the stove with a smile. "Hello, Brock-o."

"Hello," Brock said. His eyes flicked over to the other man, taking in his looks, his expression, then turned back to the pot without so much as a flicker of emotion in his expression. "Do you want a taste?"

He leaned over the pot and breathed in slowly. "What is it?"

"Mushroom risotto. It's not quite done yet, but the taste should be fine. I probably have enough for you to have a bowl."

He settled back. "Polite, aren't you?"

"If you want us to play your game, I'll play it." Brock shrugged. "So I'll be nice and get to know you, and see if I can get inside your head without you getting inside mine."

He hissed slowly through his teeth. "There's a slight problem with that."

"Which is?"

"I'm already inside your head." He grinned. "Want to see if I can drive you as mad as the girl?"

"You're going to try either way, so feel free."

He sat his chin on his hand. "You know that volunteering doesn't ruin it for me at all."

"Really? I thought it'd ruin _something_."

The man dipped a finger in the pot, beginning the game, and sucked his finger clean. "Yum. Delicious. Does your family eat like this every night?"

"Almost every night. Sometimes I don't have the time."

"And now they don't have a damned thing, since you're here and all."

"They can take care of themselves."

He sighed, dipping his finger in again, seemingly not bothered at all by the heat. "You know, I can't really remember. Did you check your house before you left Pewter?"

"You didn't give me the chance. I went from leaving the gym to hanging from a wall."

"Oh, no. I meant _this_ Pewter," the man giggled.

"No. Why would I?"

He giggled. "Well, just because I only brought in six people doesn't mean I only brought six people."

Brock glared into the pot.

"See, your siblings might have been there. No challenge for Ash to save them, but maybe there for you. Hungry little things, raiding the place." He tapped his fingers together. "They probably wouldn't know what was going on."

"You didn't bring them."

"I didn't?"

"No."

"I didn't bring them?" he teased, then ever so slowly, he began listing Brock's family, for an hour he described their looks, their likes, their personalities. He told humorous anecdotes from Brock's childhood. The star-haired man seemed to know them as well as Brock did. And then, he speculated on who would survive if left on their own in a destroyed Pewter. In every vivid detail, he described injuries and infections and death, and he finished with, "But this could all be speculation. This is easy stuff to know, don't you think."

Brock's hand clutched the wooden spoon that stirred the pot. "I don't believe you."

"You do, though." He grinned. "I'm always watching, but I'm going to vanish now. When I do, I expect you'll lose that last ounce of control, thinking of your family being tortured, and how you didn't even bother to think and check on them. Because that's your weakness, Brock-o. That lovely family you hid, those kids that you raised like they were your own. It's your passion, crosses all the way into pokémon breeding, doesn't it?"

"I don't believe you."

"I'm going to cheat, probably, because you're all the harder to break." He laughed. "Happy nightmares, Brock-o."

He left.

Brock cried.

* * *

They were walking into a building, a hotel that looked relatively fancy from the outside. Of course, once they stepped through the glass doors the place turned to rotting wood with candles flickering off the walls and creepy looking oil paintings that depicted men and women and children being slaughtered in bloody ways. When Ash and Misty stepped forward, the wood creaked beneath them so loudly it seemed as if it was about to crack.

"We're in a riddle," Ash groaned.

"Come on, there's got to be a clue," she rolled her eyes and continued on, trying to ignore the screaming floor.

They walked slowly down the hallway, taking in the pictures on the walls, and whispering to one another about how sick the man was who created it. Once they came down the end of the hall, it branched off into three doors, and a plain brass plaque sat on a podium between them. Misty snatched a candle off the wall and marched up to it, holding it close to the words and tried her best to make them out.

"One of these will get you out. Please do not scream or shout. The first room holds a dragonite, a year unfed's their appetite. In room two you'll find Ursaring, when it comes to food living flesh is the thing. In room three is a persian pride, who's hatred of humans they cannot hide." She glared. "This is the dumbest one of all. I can't believe…ugh. Forget it. Let's go to door one and get the hell out of here."

"What about D, none of the above?"

Misty jerked her thumb behind them. "It's locked."

"Crap." He glared. "You know, I hate candles."

"Why?"

"They're all flickery."

"I think it's pretty."

"And they make s'mores taste weird."

"Who cooks s'mores on a candle?"

"People get _bored_," he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, at least we won't be here long. It's pretty easy."

"It is?"

"Yeah. Don't you get it?"

"No."

She laughed. "You're so dumb!"

"Oh yeah?" he huffed. "You like me. So there."

"Ash, this is a riddle that a four year old could solve!" she teased, jabbing him in the ribs playfully.

"Misty, I don't know if you've realized this, but all of those things they can kill us."

She laughed louder, doubling over. "Oh really?"

"Yes!"

"Ash, they haven't _eaten_ in a _year_!"

"Yeah, so they're hungry!"

She choked down her laughter and asked, "Ash, what's the Rule of Three?"

"Three minutes without air, three hours without shelter, three days without water, three months without foo-oh." He blushed. "If they haven't eaten in a year they're-"

"Yeah." She nodded.

"Well, that's hard. It's…it's tricky."

She stared in disbelief. "The sperm that made you was the fastest out of _millions_."

"Shut up."

"I don't believe that. I believe that your sperm was the one that swam in circles, and it somehow accidentally attached itself to the fastest sperm, and then it fell inside the egg before the others got the chance to get in."

He thought. "What if it's a figure of speech? Like, 'I could eat a wailord' or something."

"It's a riddle. It's _never_ a figure of speech."

"You go in first."

"No way, you're the hero!" she shot back.

"You're a sidekick."

"A sidekick who's wearing _red_. It's your duty to fling yourself into danger and die first."

"You're not wearing red."

She stuck out her tongue. "Hair counts."

"It's orange."

"I thought you were sure this was the right one!"

"I am!"

"So why aren't you going in?"

She blushed. "It's the principle of the matter!"

"Well, why don't you go and get Brock and have him go first since neither of us want to go?"

She glared. "You first."

"Fine," Ash snapped. "But I demand a reward."

"Your reward is a job well done and a pokémon gained."

He grinned. "I could die. How about a farewell kiss?"

"A goodbye kiss?" she inquired. She pushed him against the wall with a taunting grin, her blue green eyes flashing with the candles on the wall. "And what, may I ask, happens if I take you up on that offer, Mr. Ketchum? Where do we go from there?"

He pretended to think, ignoring his heart flipping over in his chest. "I guess, if everything went right, I wouldn't have to worry about dying without any kids to carry on my name."

She leaned closer, whispering in an ironically sexy tone, "If I was pregnant with your child, I'd hurl myself down a flight of stairs."

"I like how you don't argue with the sex part of this plan." She snorted, and pushed him into the door, standing back with her arms crossed. "Fine, but you'll regret not making out with me when I'm dead, Mist. I'm a great kisser."

He opened the door with a sigh, half expecting to be blasted with numerous horrible dragonite attacks to his face. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of dead, rotting, dragonite corpses that surrounded a his torterra. The massive turtle was sleeping, looking relatively calm despite the carnage around him. Completely thrown off by this development, Ash closed the door and looked back at Misty. "I have to say, this riddle is super disappointing."

"What?"

"My torterra is sleeping with a bunch of dead dragonite."

"Not in the sexual sense, right?" she asked awkwardly. He arched an eyebrow. She blushed, "Oh, shut up! You got me thinking about sex and…and there's been weirder things! Hell, you killed Gary. And _neutered_ him."

He opened the door again, calling, "Torterra!"

The mammoth beast opened its eyes, then gleefully plowed forward to greet him. Ash stopped to pet him, kissing the top of torterra's head thankfully. He recalled torterra, still not questioning how the pokeball was suddenly on him, and the two grinned as the horror hallway turned back into the gorgeous hotel lobby they had seen from the outside. They searched the computer for the best rooms, took the elevator to the best floor, and jumped on the beds until they fell down from laughter.

They found Brock and ate, each one of them burying their guilt with good food and a good night's rest.

* * *

This chapter was pure, unending hell to write! Ugh, and to think I wanted to add May's challenge onto this. It's already written and everything, and I thought it would work, but then I thought. "Nah, let's go pure psychological for a chapter". So this? Pure psychological. There is nothing, _nothing _in this chapter that doesn't have significance. Every paragraph, every line, every word means something, right down to the joking mood. Everything.

So, if you hated it, feel free to tell me. It was fantastic to be able to write something that was unbelievably involved and complicated to write. It was probably the hardest thing to do that I've posted so far. But, I did it in less than a month!


	9. May's Rule of Three

**May's Rule of Three**

"_It's really nice to have you around, Trace," she had said, had wondered why her cheeks felt hot to say it. And _Misty _looked at the moment through glass, pounding and screaming for it to stop, but the flashback rolled on. "I don't think I could have handled all this without you."_

Misty _heard him laugh over her screams. "Sure you could've! You handled it fine without me before I showed up. You're a strong girl, Misty. You can take care of yourself."_

_She had smiled. "Yeah, you're right, but that doesn't mean you weren't fantastic. You were." She had wanted to do something, put her hand on his shoulder or hug him or snatch up his hand, but she had settled for saying as wholeheartedly as she could," I really appreciate it."_

_He had put his arm around her shoulders. "It was no problem. I enjoyed it."_

"_But we hardly know anything about each other," she had blurted. _Misty's _shrieking grew louder, and the glass wall before her smeared red from the blood of her fingertips. "I mean, like families and stuff. We obviously know a lot about one another but not, like, basic stuff."_

Misty _finally felt the ache settle into her hands and arms, the raw pain at her throat from screaming, so she stepped back in silence, unable to do anything but watch. It had already happened, and no matter how much she wanted it to, nothing was going to change._

**

* * *

**

For the first time in a long time, Ash woke up to the smell of _food_. It wasn't a sandwich in a cold bag, or travelling food, or even a dry bowl of cereal. It was the hot smell of eggs and bacon and pancakes that instantly made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. His eyes opened slowly and there were his friends, Misty sitting on the other side of his bed, shoveling pancakes in her mouth while Saturday morning cartoons blared on the screen, while Brock was apparently taking his turn reading the dusty old book.

"Morning," he mumbled, sitting up with a yawn.

"Morning!" Misty chirped, any signs that her dream had disturbed her completely wiped from her face. She crossed her right hand over her chest to grab his plate, then set it gently on the bed. "There's yours."

"What, no hashbrowns?" She rolled her eyes and he pressed, "Or sausages? The service here is crap."

"But the food is worth the wait," Brock retorted, grinning with pride.

Ash wasn't about to argue, and sat up quick, scooping up his plate and gulping the delicious meal down as fast as he could. He only stopped to moan at the first bite, then plowed on without a single interruption. He ended up finishing and licking his plate before Misty, and, assuming Brock had long since finished, Ash gave Pikachu a scratch behind the ears and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. He wasn't exactly sure why, especially considering he was going to save May and he was certainly going to be covered in grime in an hour or so, but he _really _felt like taking a shower that morning.

When he came out, Misty giggled, "Eucalyptus."

"What?" he asked.

"It's a plant," Brock explained. "It's probably what the soap you used smells like."

Her giggles intensified. "That's what Lily puts on to fight off bug bites when she goes running!"

"What's so funny about that?"

She shook her head. "It's like you're wearing _lavender_! It's just so…"

Brock hid his smile behind the book. "She thinks you smell like you're wearing girl perfume."

"It's not perfume!"

"I _know_," she said, biting her lip, "but now all I can think of is you with long pink hair, Ashley!"

She burst out laughing, and seeing that her tray of food was picked clean and out of her hands, he gave her head a rough shove and let her topple to the floor. Ignoring her yelps of exaggerated pain, Ash looked over at the most responsible companion and asked, "So, did you find anything?"

"It's like Misty said – mostly lists of dead in wars, lists of births and marriages, the stuff that people had to keep close track of before they had computers. Their priorities aren't really telling the story." Brock shrugged. "That probably all would have been done orally, anyway, and just for children."

"So this is the real deal?" Ash inquired. "It's an actual old book?"

"Oh, yeah," Brock nodded. "If it was anything close to modern all these names would be cut out and we'd just have the story. So either his name is somewhere in this list of names, or he's just trying to distract us so we can't find the real one."

"But he gave us the book so we could figure out who he was! Why is he making it so hard?" Ash complained.

"Oh, gee, I don't know," Misty said, climbing back on the bed and smoothing her wild hair. "Personally, I think it could be because he's an ass, but that's just an educated guess."

Ash sighed. "I know."

"Oh, and it's also my educated guess that the moon comes out at night and my hair is red. But, you know, those are just-"

He groaned now. "I _know_. I got it. He's a jerk. We still don't know if he's even in that stupid book at all. And, even if he is, who knows if that's gonna help us beat him! We could just find out that he's unstoppable, or he could just change the book and make it sound like he's unstoppable. Or plant a fake weakness or-"

"He plays too fair," Misty muttered. "He's not perfect, but he plays very fair."

"He told me he would cheat and give me nightmares."

Ash swallowed hopefully. "He didn't?"

"No, but I had some trouble getting to sleep because he freaked me out."

"He's playing his game." Misty shrugged. "You know, I don't think this guy really cares if he wins or loses and long as he makes everyone's lives a living hell while doing it. I mean, he doesn't get anything if he wins or loses. He's not trying to do something evil and you're stopping him, he hasn't made a bet with you, whether he wins or loses everything stays the same for him."

"He's got to want something," Ash argued.

"Maybe he's just a sick freak."

"Yeah, he's a sick freak, but even they want something." Ash frowned, rolling chimchar's pokeball around in his hands. "He could have put me on a rack and tortured me, or captured all of you and tortured you in front of me. He could have done loads of things that are just as bad, but he chose to set up this whole thing. He has to get something out of doing all this or else he would have done something easy. I mean, you don't do something if you don't get something out of it!"

"Any ideas on what he's getting?" Brock asked.

"Off," Misty contributed.

"What?"

"He's getting off." She snorted. "Bet you anything he's getting-"

"I bet it's connected to why he didn't beat up Gary, but he beat up you guys," Ash said slowly, the rusty gears in his head slowly grinding on. "So what makes you different from Gary that would make him hate you, but not him?"

"It'll be easier once we found May," Misty said. "If she's hurt or healed, then we'll have a better idea. We already know it doesn't have anything to do with gender, probably not appearance, and it doesn't seem like it has anything to with the order you met us in. Maybe it's the travelling partners? Gary never really travelled with you, but Brock and I did."

Ash said gravely, "And so did May and Max and Dawn."

"Then maybe he just doesn't like Misty and me," Brock said. "Or maybe it was just some random thing."

Ash pushed to his feet. "Well, only one way to find out."

**

* * *

**

The walk up the Petalburg Gym steps was strange. For a moment, he didn't feel like he was saving May, but rather that she was behind him, and Max behind her, and Brock was off chasing some girl while he clutched a hand around grovyle's pokeball and wished himself luck. Then, in a flash, it was gone and he was at the door, hand pressed flat against it, bracing himself for whatever was hiding inside. With only a brief hesitation he threw the door open and stepped into the large, plain gym.

She was the only thing in there, standing, a metal collar looped around her neck and heavy chains holding her back to the wall. Her blue eyes widened and she managed to gasp, "Ash!" before her knees gave out and she collapsed to the floor. May's hands came up to the collar, her fingers digging into her skin as she opened her mouth wide and choked for the that had so quickly been cut off from her.

"May!" Ash immediately dropped his bag and raced to the brunette. The stainless steel ring was tight on May's neck, the metal warm from her skin as it seemed to shrink under his fingers, harder and harder as she desperately tried to find a way to fill her lungs. It dug into her skin so that he couldn't get his fingers under it, and his fingertips and nails simply skidded over the metal when he grabbed at it.

Her eyes were glazing over with panic and oxygen deprivation, and they were staring up into his. He refused to look into those baby blues, forcing himself to look down as he tugged more fiercely at her collar. Ash promised himself that those eyes would still be bright the next time he looked at him, that they wouldn't go dim. He swallowed thickly and bent close, whispering, "I'm _trying_, May. I'll get it off, I swear. I _swear_ I'll get it off. May, I _promise_."

Then the star haired man was sitting next to him, his legs crossed in a yoga position and his mouth twisted in a macabre smile. "You know what does it? What sets the choking off? It's a great idea, really. My favorite so far."

"How do I get it off?" he bellowed, spinning and pinning the man to the floor.

He grinned, pearl white teeth eerier against his swirling, milky skin. "See, it's hope. Whenever she starts thinking that there's a way out, when someone will save her, it chokes her. Isn't that great? I kept her alive before, but I won't this time." He drummed his fingers on the wooden floor, his nails clicking like a persian's. "What was it that Misty had you recite earlier? I think it was something about threes?"

"Hope?" Ash snarled, digging his nail's into the stair-haired man's shoulders. "Whenever she's _hopeful _you-"

"Choke all those good feelings right out of her." He giggled. "Don't you _love _it?"

"Hope?" he repeated. Ash sprang off of him and back to May. He breathed quickly, giving her little to no warning so she couldn't brace herself. "This'll help."

And then he slammed her head against the floor and knocked her out. Her body went limp immediately, her eyes rolling up in the back of her head and the collar easing off. He heard her breathe, though, deep, slow breaths that let him know all was well.

"Send her home," he whispered.

The man giggled. "No!"

"_Please._ You know she's the one going home, so just let her go home."

"No."

"Why?"

"You have to _save_ her, Ash. I can't send her home until you do. Figure it out, Ash. You have everything you need." The star haired man stretched and stood, sauntering over to the companions who waited by the door of the gym, faces twisted in a grimace. He sauntered away, and stopped a few inches away from the sidekicks, and leaned on the invisible wall that a Mr. Mime could have created. "Such _strong_ people. You're gym leaders who take on numerous trainers daily, who are the symbol of _strength_. Held back by an invisible wall. What does that feel like?"

The redhead warned, "If you hit him, he hits you back twice as hard."

"Ash told me," Brock growled.

She pressed back to the star haired man just as hard as he did, the two separated just by centimeters of the invisible substance, and she stared him down with every bit of anger she could muster. When she spoke her voice was surprisingly calm and even, whispering, "Let me help him."

His lips twisted up. "No."

"Why not?"

"Why do you think?" he snorted. He took a step back, putting one of his hands inside his pocket and raising the other one with a deliberate, loud, snap. As he always did, he vanished, leaving nothing between them and the shrieking boy beyond.

"What am I supposed to do?" Ash shouted. "Melt it off and burn her neck? That'd probably kill her! I don't think I can crack it by heating and cooling it real fast, not like I could do anything without a water or ice type!" He swallowed thickly. "What do I do?"

"It has to be something simple, Ash," Misty cried, still pressed against the wall. "It's not a riddle! Stop thinking about it so hard! Think simple think about stuff you've done before!"

He slammed his fists against the floor. "I don't know what to do!"

"Ash, breathe," Brock said. "You don't have a time limit anymore. The collar won't kill her now, you did fine. So calm down, look around, and see if you can figure out what you have to do."

Ash grit his teeth, and dug his nails into his palms, trying valiantly to calm himself down. It didn't work very well, but after a few minutes of shaky breathing and trying to force his heart rate to slow, he felt his mind clear enough to focus. The boy leaned forward and began to examine the collar, gently running his finger along the smooth edge for some sort of latch or bump or…he paused. A hole. One the left side on her neck, a small, key shaped hole.

"Hey," Ash whispered, his mind running over the past challenge. "I used one key."

He spun around. "Misty, my bag!"

"What?"

"My bag! The key!" he shouted. "Get it for me!"

She didn't ask again. She upended his bag immediately, Brock right beside her, and they sorted through the junk until they found the rusty old key. Brock held it for a second, putting his hand on the invisible wall, and with only a frustrated grunt, Misty snatched the key away from him and hurled it at Ash. The key passed through the wall without a problem, landing a few feet away from Ash. He scrambled for it, grabbed it, then shoved it into the hole with a powerful twist. The ring turned to metal dust, falling across her neck and the floor like silver sand.

Ash stared at her for a moment, hoping, but nothing happened. She was free, but she didn't wake up. He sat back, horrified. She wasn't healed. He had knocked her out, slammed her head against the floor, and she wouldn't be healed from it. He tried to shout for his friend, but only managed to croak out, "Brock?"

The oldest boy grabbed the medkits and rushed over, immediately going through the standard exam on the girl. Unable to help, Misty and Ash stood back, Ash simply staring while Misty packed Ash's bag up once again. The minutes ticked by, but, finally, Brock lifted May in his arms and said, "We need to get her into a bed."

"Is she-" Ash began.

Brock cut him off, "She'll be okay."

"What happened to her?"

He frowned then sighed, "She has a head wound, Ash. That's it."

"That's it?" Ash whispered. "It was just me?"

"She would have been dead otherwise," Brock comforted. "It was all you could do, and she's going to be fine."

"He should be here! She should go home with hospitals and doctors and-"

He sighed. "You have to calm down. We'll do what we can and that's it. We don't want to deal with him anymore than we have to."

"But May-"

He was cut off again, this time by the girl. "-will be _fine_. Remember, we've saved her, and there's more to be saved. We have to start thinking ahead. Tell me the rule of three, Ash."

"He gives them what they need-" he said, starting to tug away.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Three minutes without air, three hours without shelter, three days without water, three months without food, and what's the last one?"

"It doesn't matter!" he snapped.

She shook him. "Dammit, Ash! What's the last one?"

"Three months without hope!" he shouted, and then, unheroically, broke down crying.

* * *

They set May down on a bed, surrounding her with pillows and covering her in blankets. Once there, Brock examined her a little more thoroughly, and said that she should have woken up fairly quickly. They watched over her, but she showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. Instead, they tried to take comfort in the fact that she was still breathing, that her heart was still beating and her bruises were fading.

Misty looked up from the book that she was once again taking her turn to read. "You know what your curse is?"

"That I can smell Brock cooking dinner from here?" Ash asked.

"_And hark, the hero stands in glory, and cried down to the crowd, 'I will slay the salamance, of that you need not doubt'._"

He grinned weakly. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"You're all cocky bastards," Misty replied airily, as if he hadn't spoken. "Every last one of you Chosen Ones. You know what happens to this guy?"

"He wins a tournament and lives happily ever after?"

She rolled her eye and held the book back up again. "_The heat erupted through its throat, and when his sword glowed red, the Chosen One was naught but ah-_embers_, the Chosen One was dead."_

"Did you change it because it said ashes?"

"No," she muttered, ducking her head.

He sighed. "It's fine, you know. It's not like another prophecy is going to burst out of nowhere. I mean, what else is there to be afraid of at this point?"

She scolded, "Don't tempt him."

"I will," Ash shot back. "He can't do a thing to me."

"See? Cocky, the lot of you. The only good thing about this damn book is that it's not written in that old age stuff. Then we'd have major translating issues."

He sighed, deciding to let her distract him. "What do you mean?"

"The 'this is the way in which cheese is made. First, you must take milk from your cow. Then, you must beat the milk with sticks to ensure its holiness.' I couldn't stand that. I'd slaughter someone."

"Are you counting your blessings?" he giggled.

"I guess."

"That's weird."

"Why's that weird?"

"Because you're usually such a _buzzkill_."

"Oh, nice."

"Like you're not."

"I freaking hate you." They were quiet for a moment, and when the world began dissolving around her and she was nearly asleep, she shook her head rapidly and focused hard on the words that swirled in front of her. That didn't work, so she set the book down encouraged, "Tell me about her."

"Why?" he asked.

She smiled. "You care a lot about her, don't you? Tell me why."

"I'm not in love with her, if that's what you're thinking." Her smile faltered. "It's weird, with May. She was the first person who…who _needed_ me. She was the first person I had to protect, and not just when the world ended. She was…I don't know. She looked up to me."

She glared. "And we _don't_?"

He laughed a bit. "Of course not, Mist."

"I look up to you, you ass."

"Yeah, I know. I'm a her-"

"No!" she blurted, then quieter, "No. I don't look up to the Chosen One. I look up to _you_."

He snorted. "For what?"

"You're nice. You're trusting. You're sweet." She shrugged. "I'm not. I look up to you for that. I want to be that."

"But I'm an idiot."

"Well, I don't want to be _you._ I want to be _parts_ of you. I don't worship the ground you walk on." She paused, looking at the girl on the bed for a while. "Is that what May does?"

"No!" he cried. "Of course not!"

"But you're…" She thought. "You're her hero, then?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

"It's a lot of pressure, isn't it?" she leaned forward, blue green eyes wide. "Being someone's hero?"

"I guess."

His answer seemed to disappoint her, and she settled back with a sigh. "Well, I'll always remember your absolute worst, Ketchum, so you'll never worry about hero worship from me."

"Thanks for knowing I suck." He hugged his knees to his chest. "Do you think she'll be alright?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"I know she'll live, but I've got no clue if she'll be alright. I'm not doctor." She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Ash."

"Mist, have you ever wanted to kill someone?"

"Wanted?" She thought, tossing casual memories aside and banning one very important flashback from her mind. "Not seriously."

"I do," he whispered. "I want to _kill_ this guy. I want to put my hands around his neck until he stops breathing. I _want_ to."

She shook her head. "You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not supposed to be a killer, Ash!" she hissed. "You're not meant to kill."

"Don't you want him dead?" he snapped.

"Not if you're the one who does it!"

"Why _not_?"

She gripped his hand tightly, the book cast aside and her fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. "Ash, _I've _killed someone. Say it's on accident, say it's on purpose, I don't care. It _happened_. You can never, ever go through that. I _won't _let you."

"Why?" he growled. "You think I can't handle it?"

"I think you're too damn good for it, you good for nothing…" She was shaking, and shut her eyes tight to hold back the tears. "Please don't be a killer, Ash."

That was the best thing he could do, because he could fix that. Because that could make him feel important. Because, now, he could squeeze her hand back and promise her with absolute conviction, "I'll try."

**

* * *

**

Despite their vigilance and care, two days passed and May still hadn't woken up. Brock had hooked up an IV from a nearby hospital, though he had no idea how to get food into the girl's system. They now took turns keeping watch, with one in the room and two sleeping or searching for food and supplies. Ash rarely was given the chance to watch over her, Misty and Brock constantly pushing him out of the room over fear that his worry would get the best of him.

"Ash?" Misty asked quietly during Brock's shift.

"Yeah?"

"Will…" She swallowed. "Can we hug?"

Ash blinked, sitting up in his bed and looking over at her. "_What?_"

"Hug," she said. "I don't…I don't want to do anything, or talk. I just…whenever I was feeling like this I could go play with my pokémon or just run off in the woods for a while. I can't do that here. So…so could we hug?"

"I guess," he said awkwardly.

She frowned, flopping back in bed. "If it's that big a problem, you don't have to."

"I know," Ash said hurriedly. "I want to, really. I just don't want to hug you and then you'll have a weird mood swing and you'll punch me in the face."

"I won't," she retorted. "I just want a hug. If you don't want to, I can go to Brock instead, you ass."

"I said I'd hug you!" he protested.

She crossed her arms, scowling and blushing, "Well, you better get over here before I go to someone better."

He walked over and sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her gracelessly. Her body still felt strange against his, all bony and stiff and surprisingly cold skin for someone with such a hot temper. But, soon, her body relaxed against his, her muscles loosened and her head leaned back into his shoulder, shivering just the slightest bit. He held true to his request and did not talk or hug tighter or attempt to console her. He was simply there, an extremely warm, soft rock to lean on.

Eventually her shivers stopped and she was no longer a limp body resting on his, but awake and calm once more. "Thank you."

"Yeah," he said. "No problem."

She didn't move from her spot on his chest. "You didn't have to."

"I know."

"So why did you?"

"You asked me to!" he fumed.

She clucked her tongue. "Not that. I mean, why did you do it? We're not that close anymore, right?"

"I think we still are," he argued. "I know lots of stuff about you and you know me pretty well."

"Doubt it." She sighed. "You were better than I was though."

"I was?"

"You always sent me a present on my birthday. You called whenever you had something exciting to tell me. I never did any of that for you." She took his hand softly, not sure what she was doing. "I was just nice to you whenever you called."

"Well, that's something."

"Why'd you keep contact with me?"

"Because we're friends," he said, chuckling. "I like you, and I like talking to you, so I kept doing it. I guess you don't feel the same way."

"I do," she said softly. "I…I missed you."

"Missed _me_?"

"Yeah. Traveling with you and…and I just missed you. I don't want to because I can't travel with you anymore and I just want to stop talking to you so I can get over you!" She groaned, grasping his hand tight. "You know, you're impossible to forget."

"Sorry." He laughed.

"I'm trying really hard to hate you."

"It doesn't look like it's working," he noted.

"Not really." She scooted closer to him and smiled. "But we're stuck here for a while, so I guess it doesn't matter. Besides if I'm lucky this is all a weird dream and when I wake up I can hate you all over again."

"I really am afraid of snakes."

Her face wrinkled up in confusion. "What the…why the…" She looked up at him. "Explain."

"We're having a personal moment, but I don't have anything that personal. So, yeah, I'm really afraid of snakes."

She snorted. "Thanks for sharing, Ash."

"And I hate grapefruit. It's disgusting."

"I've seen you eat grapefruit."

"Yeah, but I don't like it."

"Then why do you eat it?"

"Because sometimes we've only got grapefruit and I got really hungry."

She rolled her eyes and nestled into him, swearing that she'd go back to hating him tomorrow. But for now, he was warm and she was bored and he was always good to talk to, no matter whether she hated him or had her heart beat just a little faster the closer he got.

**

* * *

**

The next day, May wake up. Amazingly, perfectly, she yawned and stretched, sitting up like she had just had a good night's sleep instead of been in a coma for the past three days. She smiled at everyone who was sitting in her room, the three of them eating their gourmet lunch prepared by Brock with all the fanciest ingredients, and smiled broadly at them with a calm, "Hey, that smells great!"

"May!" Ash shouted, throwing his arms around her. His half empty plate clattered on the table, and Brock (although no less happy for May being awake) too the opportunity to steal the warm goat cheese from his salad before brushing his hands off and heading to May's side as well.

She laughed, hugging him back. "Hi, Ash! Thanks for getting me out of there."

"And I'm getting you out of _here, _too."

The brunette pulled away, frowning. "You aren't coming?"

"Not yet." He shook his head slowly.

She scanned the room. "_You're_ staying?"

"Both of us," Brock clarified.

"Why am I going, then? Shouldn't I stay?"

"Because you can't solve the riddles and you aren't Brock," Misty said tightly. "You'll be better off at home."

She looked at Misty for a moment, then back at Ash for some type of confirmation, and agreed, "Okay."

"That's it?"

"I guess so." May shrugged. "Is there supposed to be something else?"

"No fight or anything?" Misty insisted.

"You guys know what you're going," she said, eyes lingering on Ash. "So, if you think I should go, then I'll go."

Green eyes rolled. "You really took care of her, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?" May giggled awkwardly, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing," Ash said. "Now we just need to find the jerk who brought you here."

As his typical, conveniently timed self, he was suddenly there. He scowled viciously, leaning over the bed and grabbed May roughly by the elbow. "_Fine_," he spat, eyes glaring into Ash's. "I'll take your precious friend back home, Ketchum. Since she's a-o-fucking-kay."

"What, was she supposed to _die_?" Ash shot back.

"Yes. That was what I was _rooting_ for."

"Well, you lost," Brock said coldly. "We won this round."

"_Ash _won. You stood on the sidelines and clapped your hands for him." He gripped her elbow harder, and they vanished with a cutoff squeak of pain from May.

"I can't believe she didn't fight to stay," Misty said slowly. "I would have fought to stay."

"Me too," Brock agreed.

Ash shook his head. "But May isn't like that."

"This isn't about her," Misty snapped. "Brock, you would have too?"

"I always do."

"But I don't." She frowned. "I can't believe I would have fought to stay."

Ash rolled his eyes. "You fight over whether something is white or cream!"

"That's not the _point_, you idiot."

"Then what is?" Ash snapped.

Brock explained, "You don't have a choice, Ash. You have to stick it out until the end. We do. We should be fighting over who _gets_ to go home, not who _has_ to."

His eyes lit. "You want to stay?"

"I'd never leave you alone at a time like this."

"I must have hit my head," Misty muttered.

"Not a hate hug then?"

"It was a hate hug and I still hate you."

He grinned, nudging Brock. "She so likes me."

"Shut up, Ash!" She growled, throwing her covers over her head. "And, yes, Mr. Worried, I'm sure May was brought home safe."

"How did you-?"

"Because you always worry," she retorted. "The man plays fair. May's home safe."

**

* * *

**

_There was nothing to do but press _her_ face against the glass. "Why did you give me this stupid dream?"_

"_I don't know why you're such a fascination to me," he whispered, his icy body pressed against _her_ back. "It probably has something to do with how you can never stay away from Ash. You always come back to him, and you always fall for him. It's funny, how fate is."_

"_You're not a man, are you?" _she_ said quietly._

"_You know that."_

"_You know what I mean," _she_ said. "You know exactly what I mean."_

"_This is yours, for once." _She_ felt his lips soft on her cheek, just a peck. "Oh, dearest, this dream is all yours."_

"_What, is Misty not your real name?"_

"_Sort of," she had said, smiling slightly. "But my full name's stupid."_

_He had laughed. "Oh, it can't be that bad."_

"_It is!" she had argued. "Maybe I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours."_

"_Tracey Sketchit," he shot back._

"_Your _full _name."_

Misty _held back tears, whispering, "If it's not you, why don't you make it stop? Do something else. Something that's fun for you."_

"_Quiet," he snapped. "I'm watching."_

_Her eyes had widened with hilarious glee. "You go by your middle name?"_

"_I like Tracey better. It's got what I do right in the name. Trace."_

"_Tracing is cheating, Sketchit," she had retorted._

_Tracey had blushed. "You'd better not start calling me that."_

_She had giggled. "You're only encouraging me!"_

_She had spun around to tease him some more, but was met by him bending down to kiss her. She had been too stunned to do anything, the sudden change from friend to something more taking her completely by surprise. It hadn't been until he pushed away, stuttering and apologizing, that she had come to her senses. She had tugged him back down whispering, "You are so stupid, Aiden Tracey Sketchit."_

_And despite _Misty's _quiet, "don't," their lips had crashed again._

_The star haired man's voice was cold and empty when he spoke: "You can't change the past."_

**

* * *

**

Argh, I'm so nervous about this chapter! It took a while, mostly because of my computer breaking down, but feel free to rip into it.

Oh, and here's plot twist number one, enjoy!


	10. Max

Here's chapter ten! Thank you all for sticking with me as long as you have! I know it's been a while, so I'm glad that you all think that this is worth waiting for.

* * *

**Max**

At three in the morning, the dream finally let her go. She didn't wake with a scream or a start, but was simply suddenly sleepless, looking up at the ceiling with a glazed eyed stare. Misty sat up slowly, looking around the room. Brock and Ash were sharing a king sized bed, each spread out and still not touching in the massive space. A small lump under their blanket moved up and down where Pikachu slept. She fell back once more, rubbing her eyes and groaning softly, realizing that sleep wouldn't come any time soon. Her hand reached to her left of the queen sized bed and worked her hand through the drawstring top of her backpack, tugging out her bathing suit and changing under the covers on the off chance one of the boys would stir at the noise she made. They didn't, of course. Not even a flick of an ear from Pikachu when she gave a little grunt and kicked off her covers, shivering in the cool night air.

Finally, her feet swung over the side and she stood, wandering out with a quiet click of the door behind her, loud enough to make an almost invisible twitch under the boys' sheets. She hadn't noticed, and doubted she would care if either of them did at this point. Her feet softly padded down the hall, toes curling into soft carpet as she went. As off as she was, she threw caution to the wind and pressed the down button on the elevator, the machine whispering into life with the quiet precision one only found in the highest quality hotels. She stepped inside, feet now slapping on the white marble, and let herself down to the ground floor, striding across the gorgeous lobby and pushing the doors open to the pool, wincing at the heavy scent of chlorine, and backed out. The ocean would be better – cold, sure, but so was her tank at home. Water gyms were in her blood for ages back, and the cold never bothered her.

Her still calloused feet, thankfully still sturdy despite her years off traveling, easily trudged across the concrete and asphalt. She didn't mind the small cuts on her feet from the rough surfaces, not when it changed to grass, not when it changed to the cool sand, not when it changed to the seawater that stung as it poured into every crevice. She had come down meaning to swim, but the gentle lapping of the water was soothing, and she felt much more comfortable just sitting down in the water.

"Misty, what's wrong?" Ash asked. His pikachu leapt into her lap, curling up happily despite the ocean that wet his fur.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking up at the moon.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I'm sorry I'm not sorry, because I _want_ to be sorry."

He shook his head. "I don't understand."

So she turned to him, digging her hands and feet into the soft sand to steady herself. "I wasn't angry, I wasn't hurt or scared. I didn't have any reason to do it. I had nothing to get out of it. I just sat back and sort of enjoyed it. I felt like I was doing my job. Not anything to look forward to but not quite something to dread. It was just something I felt like I was supposed to do. And, what's worse? Half the time I think back to it, I'm not guilty. I don't care. Half the time I'm normal and the other half I just feel accomplished." Her voice wasn't shaking, and he couldn't see too well, but he could have sworn she was crying. "Ash, what's wrong with me?"

She clutched his hand so tight his fingers creaked, but he only squeezed her back and said, "I promise it'll be okay. Just wait and see, I'm going to make it better."

She threw her arms around him, scattering a rather annoyed Pikachu into the surf. "Arceus, Ash, I'm so sorry. I know I've been mean but I've been going crazy and I just don't know what to do. You're my only hope and all I've been doing it making it harder for you!"

"I know."

"And it's not just that." She pulled away, putting a sandy hand to his cheek. "You're my best friend and I lashed out at you. You're sweet and kind and granted you've got a brain that's smooth and the size of a marble but you're a really great guy and I shouldn't have done it. I don't know why I did it. I just…I can't take not knowing what going wrong with me."

He wanted to be that True Hero, to say that the evil forces were at work and he would vanquish them, run them through with a sword and then she'd be free from the curse. He wanted to say that, then kiss the tears off her cheeks and then end up in some romantic make out- come to think of it, he was probably old enough to have a sex scene. But Ash would only stumble through his words and if he tried to kiss her she would slap him so hard he'd faint like the coward he was. Besides, she wouldn't have wanted him to. And he didn't want to. Really, he didn't.

She kissed his cheek instead, her skin clammy and sticky from tears and salt water. "Thank you. I'm sorry for the…the…" She swallowed. "Thank you."

Misty turned to leave, and he felt like the damsel, tenderly touching his cheek and blushing at his heart pounding. All he wanted to do was chase after her, spin her around and kiss her, because at that moment he had no doubt that she loved him back. But he wasn't sure his heart could handle that much more excitement. So he sighed and dunked his head in the icy water, jolting himself awake, and scrambled after her, pulling her back to the water to keep his courage.

"What?" she asked.

He said around chattering teeth, "Talk to me."

"About what?"

"About Tracey."

Her voice just audible above the waves, she whispered, "Do you think I'm evil?"

Ash decided to be a bit braver and put his arm around her shoulder, leaning into her. "Don't believe in evil."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen a lot of good and bad stuff and I've been to a lot of countries but evil seems like saying the edges of the earth." He looked for the words, to make them sound pretty and smart and comforting, but the sentences simply poured out in awkward streams. "Everyone has a reason. A story. It doesn't mean what they do is right, but it's not evil. Everybody's trying to do it for a good reason, you know?"

"Then what do you think of me?"

He grinned. "I thought you didn't care what I thought of you."

"Ash," she said, pinching his side hard enough to really hurt. "I mean it."

"You made a mistake."

"My gyarados set him on _fire_. I don't think you can cover that by calling it a _mistake._"

"It was a battle, accidents happen."

"I just _watched_," she growled. "I just stood back and stared and I didn't even _try_."

"But what could you have done?"

"Not feel _proud_."

He squeezed her shoulder. "You don't always feel proud about it."

"But when I do-"

"When you do, it's not pride. It's the shock." He took her shaking hand in his. "You…you just don't know how to react to it. That's it."

"I don't want to feel this way," she muttered, leaning her head on his chest.

He laughed a little. "Then maybe you shouldn't have sat down in the water."

"I don't feel cold."

"You'll get sick."

"I never feel cold." She lifted her head slowly. "Do you know why?"

"Years of selective breeding as a gym leader?"

"The star-haired man."

"You don't need to worry about him, Misty. I'll win. I'll save everyone and I'll kill him. I swear I will. I'll fight as hard as I can and he won't stand a chance. You don't have to worry, Mist. I promise it'll be okay."

She glared, pinching his side again. "I don't want you to kill him."

"What do you mean?"

"I said it before, and I'll say it again and again and again until you believe me." She met his eyes again, burning brightly. "I don't want you to be a killer. You're Ash Ketchum and you're not a killer."

"Why not?"

"Because this is one of the things that makes you _amazing_." She sounded breathless from it all, melting into him a little. "You don't torture, you don't kill. All you do is save, don't you get it? Your ability to help is so, so much more than you hurt is what makes you incredible. You give too many second chances, and I love that about you. I love that I know you're going to save everyone. I don't doubt it. But I don't think you're a killer."

He rolled her eyes. "You don't think that I am?"

"No, I think you're not a killer." She rolled her eyes.

"Because I'm not brave enough?"

"Oh, stop it!" she cried, clenching her fists. "It's not what I mean and you know it, you know what I mean!"

"No I don't!"

"If that thing was helpless and powerless and you were standing over it with a sword in your hand you wouldn't kill him!" she shouted, slapping his chest as hard as she could. It would be red for a while, and it would bruise a bit the next morning, but Ash didn't flinch. "After everything he did to you, you won't kill him out of revenge. You won't torture him! That's what makes you better then that!"

"It's a weakness."

"It is! Who cares?" she shouted. "People would do anything for a weakness like that!"

"I'm not people," he retorted. "People aren't going through this."

"If you can stop him, that's all that matters. That's what you need to do. If that's all you do, that's astounding. You don't need to make him suffer just because he did it to you, to us."

"Misty, look what he's done." Ash squeezed her hand. "He broke you."

"Ash Ketchum, tears don't mean I'm broken. They mean I'm human," she said fiercely. "I'm not done fighting yet, and you aren't either. So stop trying to be something you're not, because that's not what's going to get us out of here."

"But what if I save everyone and it doesn't make a difference? What if he just gets mad and kills everyone anyway? What if its just…" He shook his head, tugging his hands away and pressing his palms against his eyes. "I'm not going to cry again."

"Go ahead and cry," she whispered. "It's okay."

"But heroes don't cry," he argued softly. "Not unless somebody dies. They don't cry just because things go around or because they're hard or any of that kind of stuff."

Misty's eyes narrowed. "Who said that?"

"Dawn and me and Brock…we were reading about old heroes. We were trying to figure out what I could do to win, or how to beat him or something."

"And you never thought that you were enough?" She jabbed at the sore spot on his chest.

"What?"

"You're the Chosen One for a reason, Ash. It's not because you can throw a car or you can make some great escape using toilet paper and dirt because of your super genius abilities. It's because you're you. That's what saved the world all those times." She smiled. "So what makes this so different? It's just like all the others. He's just another bad guy."

"No."

"No?" she blinked, leaning away.

"I'm a target," he said solemnly. "He's after me, not anyone else. He's not trying to destroy the world or capture some Legendary pokemon or anything. He's trying to kill me. I've never had to save myself. Even Pikachu was the one being targeted half the time."

The little mouse's ears perked at finally being addressed, but noting that Ash had merely mentioned him offhand, he gave an unhappy sniff and went back to running and playing in the waves. And when he saw the star haired man standing off in the distance, when he smelled that strange scent that wasn't quite human or pokemon, he bristled quietly and kept watch. He would not let the man come closer. But, as he glanced back at his master who was starting to smell like sadness, he would not interrupt the talk. Not when he and Misty were so close.

"Yeah, but-"

"Heroes die, Misty. I don't know if you read the stories, but heroes die. Eventually, there's someone who's too strong, and a new hero has to take over. What if this is mine? I even have replacements all set up. I have cousins, Mist. They're getting ready for their own journeys. What if this is their fight and I'm just the set up?"

"You're not."

"But you don't know that."

"Neither do you!" she cried, throwing her hands up into the air. "You're saying what if, and you shouldn't. Instead of using your stupid, amazing head to think of all the ways you can die, why don't you try and use it to keep something from happening?" Now her hands settled on her hips, and there was a slight smile hidden in the corner of her mouth. "That's what your stupid heroes do, isn't it?"

"Aren't you supposed to be comforting me?"

"Not when you're being a dumbass. Then you get yelled at. I'd hit you too, if I still felt up to it. No slapping, either, a full on punch, Ketchum. You're lucky I'm tired, real, real lucky, or you'd be unconscious and drowning in this ocean. You can bet your ass I wouldn't save you either."

He grinned and pinched her cheek lightly. "You called my head amazing."

"I lied," she said, smacking his hand away.

"You so like me."

She rolled her eyes and pushed him into the surf with a loud splash. "Gees, can you ever kill a moment."

Pikachu turned to see the disturbance, then yelped, "Pikapi!" But, when they looked over, the star haired man was gone, and, unable to explain what had happened, Pikachu stopped trying to understand the strange creature and led his humans back to their room.

**

* * *

**

The next morning brought a tray of fresh, hot eggs benedict with tall glasses of orange juice. After their third servings, Brock decided to bring out the English muffin bread and ham and a big vat of sauce for them to dip things in. They scraped the bowl clean (well, Ash scraped it clean, while Brock and Misty gawked) and relaxed, stomach full and hearts content. For a brief moment, they let it slip their minds of where they were.

"Are we completely sure we want to go back?" Misty moaned, rubbing her bloated stomach happily. "I mean, I don't mind eating like this."

"No," Ash muttered.

She blushed, sitting up quick and glaring. "I was kidding."

"No," he said firmly, then knit his brows together and asked, "Where the hell is Max?"

"What?" Brock asked, popping a raspberry into his mouth.

"Max. My next challenge." He sat up now, looking back and forth between his friends. "Where the hell is he?"

"Back at the gym?" Brock suggested.

Misty shook her head. "No. He wouldn't be at the gym."

"Why?"

"May was at the gym," she said simply, looking at him as if it were a relatively simple fact.

"Yeah, but we got May out of the gym and the gym went back to normal. I don't see why Max couldn't be there too. At least, it can't hurt to check."

"Trust me," she said stiffly. "He's not at the damn gym."

Ash bristled. "Why not?"

"Because he's _not_," Misty snapped. "Check if you want. I'm telling you, there's no way in hell he's at that gym. If May was at the gym, he won't be."

Ash sighed, putting his head in one hand. "Want to tell us why?"

"I'm in his head pretty deep," she lied, glaring at the floor. "I can figure out something like this."

"Is that why you were crying last night?" Brock asked.

"You were crying last night?" Ash said, dropping his air of superiority. "You didn't tell me that."

She shrugged. "It wasn't important."

"It's a big deal!" he retorted. "I cry more than you do!"

"It was a dream about bugs. No big deal."

"It was about Aiden."

"You don't call him that. He's Tracey to you."

"That's why you told me about it last night?"

"Shut up," she snarled, pushing off of the bed with a grunt. "I'll be taking a shower."

He grinned halfheartedly. "Want company?"

"Not now, Ash," she shouted, and slammed the door behind her.

They heard the shower turn on and Ash turned back to Brock with a sigh. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm just trying to be nice and cheer her up."

"I know," Brock said, nodding softly. "You keep forgetting that Misty doesn't want you to care for her."

"I'd want her to care for me if I killed my boyfriend," he mumbled. Then, after a moment of consideration, corrected, "Girlfriend."

"But she's not you. She wants to stand on her own. _She wants to feel guilty_."

"Why?"

"I don't know. That's the way she is. If it's anything, she probably thinks she deserves to feel punished for it." Brock shrugged. "It's probably best just to leave it all alone. If she comes to you and she talks, then talk to her. If she doesn't bring it up, then leave it alone. Especially if she starts getting mad. If she starts getting mad, you should probably just run."

"Just like I used to," he sighed. "Maybe I should steal her clothes while she's in the shower."

"And how would that help anything?"

"It won't help," he agreed. "It'd be really, really funny though. She would run out of there and _kill _me."

"I'd kill you," Brock laughed. "So, where do you think that Max is if he's not at the gym?"

"Maybe we should try their house. It's right next to the gym, and if he's not there we can always check the gym again." Ash thought for a second. "I can't think of where else he would be. I don't even remember where I met him. I don't remember where I met most people."

Brock snorted. "It's been two years."

"Hey, I needed a map to figure out where the gym was in this town. At least I remember Kanto and Sinnoh well enough to get around. I didn't need a map once in any of those places. Well, I mean, not the second time through."

"Kanto is your home region and you just traveled through Sinnoh."

Ash arched an eyebrow. "Yeah. That's why I remember."

Misty came out of the shower just a few minutes later, her clothes back on and soaking up some of the left over water and her soaked, now dark hair plastered to her face. She seemed to have cooled down enough to hear them out, and nodded along as they explained their reasoning and their thoughts on Max's location. "His house?" she asked, rubbing at her head with a towel, head between her knees as she dried it. "Yeah. That could work. We could try his house. Is that where you met him?"

"I don't know."

She frowned, tossing the towel aside and whipping her head back, sending a light shower of raindrops across her bed. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I don't remember."

She gawked. "It was only three years ago! How do you forget how you met someone in three years?"

"Four," Ash corrected idly. "Four years ago."

"I don't care if it was ten years ago. Your memory should have started working by then."

He crossed his arms challengingly. "Oh, so you can remember everyone you've ever met?"

"I fished you out of a river. I met Brock at a gym. I met May and Max on my way to-" she said, ticking each meeting off on her fingers with a smirk.

"Alright!" he snapped. "You don't have to be such a show off. You have a good memory, big deal, all girls remember this stupid stuff."

She grinned. "So, I'm guessing you don't have any clue where his house is, either?"

"I'm pretty sure it's next to the gym." Ash shrugged. "Brock, you remember where it is?"

"It's next to the gym," he agreed. "And I remember where the gym is, since we went to it yesterday-"

"Hey, I remember where the gym is!"

"-So, I'll lead the way. That sound good to everyone?"

Misty frowned, shaking her head back and forth. "My hair's still wet."

"So we're going to delay saving Max because your hair's wet?" he shouted, falling back on the bed. "Of course! Let's get our priorities straight!"

"We don't have to," she mumbled, tugging at her hair. "We can go now. I'm sure it'll dry on the way."

"Oh, good." Ash snorted. "I'm sure Max will apologize when he finds out that his being captured got in the way of your dramatic hair care schedule."

"Shut up."

"I mean, he might have some problems if he's currently being tortured, but, hey, we need to make sure you look your very best when we go to try and rescue him. I mean, who wants to be rescued if there's a girl with wet hair waiting for your after you get out?"

"Aren't you snarky this morning?"

He gestured at the clocked with a cheeky, "Afternoon."

**

* * *

**

The house was absolutely nothing like a house on the inside. Instead, it was a huge, towering dungeon that they stood in the pits of. In the center of the room there was a pool of lava, which, at their distance should have been burning them, but merely felt extremely hot. Around the lava pool were rocks, which, due to the lava's heat, probably should have been melted as well. Instead, they jutted up proudly through the lava and made their obsidian, serrated edges glistening in the light from the molten rock. And, then, of course, there was Max, who was in the most impossible situation of all, considering how dead and tortured he should have been, he seemed to be doing pretty well.

"Max?" Ash asked. "Are you in a cage over boiling lava and pointy rocks?"

The boy looked around his small metal cage, at the chain that ran along the wall and down deep into the earth, then nodded. "Yeah. I am."

Ash looked around for a minute, staring in a mixture of awe and horror at the challenge that was laid out before him. "Were you reading a comic book when he took you?"

"I was reading Agent 15," he said, smiling a bit. "It's my favorite.

"I love that series!" Misty gasped. "This is just like book four where-"

"This happened?" Ash suggested dryly.

She blushed. "Uh-huh."

"How did Agent 16 live?" he called up.

"Agent 15?" Max inquired. "Uh, he was evil. He made the trap."

"Then how did the hero get out?"

"He died," Misty whispered sheepishly. "The cage slowly dropped forward into the lava and the guy put his head straight down in the lava so the burning would end faster."

"Why would you tell me that?"

"Because you're way better than him! He was just called the Golden Boy. He didn't even have a real name!"

"Like how I'm called the Chosen One?"

She put a hand on his shoulder, wincing a bit as she squeezed. "I believe in you, Ash. You definitely have a name."

"Yeah, thanks for that." Ash rolled his eyes. "Max, what can you tell us?"

"The door is open."

"So come out! Ash shouted. "Why the hell are you still in there?"

"And go where?" he shot back.

"Point taken." Ash turned back to his friends, pulling them close as if he was about to reveal a plan, then whispered, "I have no idea what to do."

The redhead's eyes widened. "Nothing?"

"What if I climbed up the chain?"

"What if the chain snapped?" Brock suggested.

"Well, I guess me and Max would slowly melt in a pit of lava, or get stabbed through by sharp rocks, or maybe even some combination of the two." Ash clapped his back sarcastically. "Thanks for keeping my mind off the bad, Brock-o."

"Trying."

"It's alright. Thanks for at least giving me some kind of warning."

"Check your pokeballs," Misty suggested.

"They won't work."

"It can't hurt to try."

"Knowing this guy, I think it can," he muttered, grudgingly taking a pokeball from his belt and expanding it.

"He plays fair."

"You keep saying that, but it sure as hell doesn't seem fair, Misty. Especially when I wake up at night and see you crying."

"First off, Brock saw me crying, not you. You wouldn't even have known if it hadn't been for him."

He glared. "Oh really? Because that's not how I remember last night."

"And, anyway, it's not a big deal. Girls cry."

He slammed the button again and again and again. "Tracey is dead, Misty. D-E-A-D, dead. It's a big fucking deal, and you need to stop saying it like it isn't – like it's your problem. It hit you hardest but he was my friend too. Even if we weren't in love-"

She interrupted, "I was in love."

"That's not what I meant."

Misty shrugged. "You said we. It's not we. There's a difference in the pronouns."

"I don't get it."

"You said we, meaning he loved me and I loved him. I said I. Not we. Pay attention."

"And what's that mean?"

She glared. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know!"

"Ash," Brock warned.

He shook his head, ignoring the older boy's caution. "No, really, what are you talking about?"

"He didn't love me back, you dolt," she snapped. "We were dating, and he never felt the same. I loved him. He didn't love me back."

Ash swallowed. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. That's not really the issue at hand. We need to stay focused."

"How do you keep making me feel guilty?"

"Waterflower talent." Misty smirked. "So what are you going to do?"

"My pokeballs are jammed, so there's only one way up." Ash pointed along the wall. "The chain's secure, it's keeping Max up and it should support me, so that's all there is to it. I'll climb up, get over to Max, and help him down. It's easy and it's the only possible way up. We'll be in and out in ten minutes."

"You can't!" she argued, gasping at the plan.

"Why not?"

"It's too dangerous!" she snapped. "You've come up with some bad plans over the years, don't I know it, but this passes them all without a problem. The amount of risks involved…you just can't! I mean, the chain could snap or the chain could be a trap or…or anything! There's got to be another way!"

Ash tucked his pokeballs away. "What else can I do?"

"Something other than this."

"He's over _lava_, Mist."

"I'm telling you, you'll get hurt!"

He chuckled. "I won't."

"You never believe me!" she shouted, stomping her foot. "You _never_ believe me! I tell you not to because I know you and I know the things you do and I know when something bad will happen and you do it anyway! Every damn time! Every damn time I say no you say yes!"

"I can't leave him up there."

"But you can't die," she whispered. "If you died, it was for nothing. He'll kill us if you die, collapse the whole damn thing on us!"

"Then I won't die."

She shook her head. "Think harder."

"It's not a riddle."

"I don't care!" she shrieked, loud enough for Max to sit up and hear her. "There has to be another way! It can't be-"

"I'll be fine," he said, holding her hand tight. "I'll be back. Give me ten minutes tops, Mist, and I promise to be right back on the ground and we'll get out of here and finish up this stupid thing. All we need after Max is Dawn. You just have two more riddles."

"You die and I'll kill you," she muttered, pinching his side once again.

Brock nodded. "Take your gloves off, Ash. They're too smooth to give you much grip."

"What if the chain's too hot?" Misty leapt in, eyes wide. "What if you can't touch it?"

"I'll touch it anyway."

He obediently stripped the gloves from his hands and tossed them to Brock. He set Pikachu down, petting his head and promising he'd be back soon, swiveled his hat around backwards, then strode off with something that wasn't quite swagger or confidence, but an acceptance. Misty's hands balled into fists at that, because something wasn't quite right about it all. Because Ash didn't have foresight, and even if he did, he would never be the type who just laid down and took what the world said was coming to him. He was the kind of boy who would hear a prophecy and work up until the very last to try and prove it wrong, if he had to. He was a boy who defied expectations.

But he was following the plan, now. She could practically see the trail the star haired man had laid out for him. He walked to the wall and he grabbed the chain, and Misty got shivers down her spine, cowering closer to Brock. Ash tugged at it, making sure it was secure, then jumped, grabbing the chain and pulling himself up. Foot by foot he pulled until his biceps burned and pushed until his thighs shook, and when he reached the top he tapped the ceiling like he was going to set off an alarm and win himself a carnival prize. Then he panted and waited, head slumped against the rock.

He grabbed the chain that trailed along the ceiling, and made sure he had a good grip before clenching the muscles in his stomach and letting his legs wrap around it as well. He slithered across the chain, all the way to the where it bent down from the ceiling to dangle Max. This was harder. He reached one hand out, grabbed it, and let everything else go, swinging back and whipping so hard he almost went over the side. Ash could taste the sulfur in the air as he drew in a sharp breath and hauled on the chain, snapping himself back. He wrapped his legs around it, hugged it tight and panted as it swung gently, listening to the one sharp, short yelp from Max, who gripped the bars of his cage to keep himself from falling out. Then he slid down ever so slowly, feet touching the top of the cage, and settled.

He rubbed at his arms and legs to get the feeling back. Then Ash sighed and bent over the side to grin at the other black haired boy. "How's it hanging?"

Max giggled. "You did _not _just make that joke."

"I did." He was sure his feet were locked around the chain, flat on his stomach and grabbed the boy's hands tight. Max held on, his nails digging little furrows into Ash's forearms, and the bigger of the two hauled him out, on top of the cage, where they panted for a moment. He rubbed Max's back warmly, then curled up and clutched onto the chain to stay stable. "Did you watch how I came over?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'm going to have you go first so I can watch you. Alright?" Ash nodded at him. "You think you can do it? Do you need to stretch or do you need help or-?"

"I think I can do it," Max said tightly, swallowing. "Just…you'll stay close behind me, right?"

"Right behind you," he promised.

Up the chain, across the top, and right as he went to shift again, he missed.

His hand slipped. He was on his way back and his hand slipped. He had saved Max, and his sweating hand had grabbed and slipped, his fingers brushed the chain on his way down, and for a second he was floating, unable to change his path and no clue where to change it to if he could, and then the wall. He crashed into it and grabbed at it, the rock face crumbling away and slowing his fall, but the hit was inevitable. It knocked the wind out of him so he couldn't scream, but there was a white hot pain through his right leg that made him fade in and out of consciousness, hovering at the brink, mouth open in a voiceless cry.

"Max, hold on!" Brock shouted. "Ash'll be okay if you climb down."

"What happened?" he screamed, clinging to the chain, his twelve year old eyes wide. "Why'd he scream?"

"Max, don't think about it. Just grab-"

"Arceus!" Max screamed, his eyes round as he took in the sight of Ash on the floor the rock spike shining with a bit of his blood. Then the anthem started. Over and over and over came the horrified cry of, "_He's dead! He's dead! He's dead!_"

"I'm getting him," Misty snarled, starting forward.

"He won't let-"

She glared at Brock. "Oh, he'll let me. For me? For Max? He'll fucking let me."

She charged off, grabbing the chain and shimmying up it. She refused to look at Ash, but she wanted to. Every part of her ached to look, though she had seen him fall and she had watched in almost slow motion as the rock slide through his upper thigh. But Max needed the help, because if she helped Max Ash would be okay. She was just below him, and she tapped his foot, jolting him out of his stupor and looking down at her, eyes already bloodshot and tears streaking down his face, his knuckles white as he clutched to the chain. She gulped against her dry throat. "Max, you have to come with me, now."

His voice creaked like a rusted door. "I can't."

"You have to."

"But I can't."

"If you want to help Ash, you _have_ to."

"How?" he gasped, choking on a sob.

"If you get down safe, he'll be okay. He gets healed."

He swallowed. "But he's dead."

"The spike is in his leg, Max. At worst, he'll be crippled and we'll have to get him a tetanus shot."

"You're lying."

"I'm not, I swear it." She squeezed his ankle. "Max, please, this is the only way we can help him. If you stay up here, without any medical supplies, there's no telling how bad it could get. If we can't get you out of here and can't get him medical help Ash really could die. _Please,_ Max."

"I…"

"Just look at me," Misty begged. "Right at me, and we'll get down, okay? You can do it, Max."

He nodded mutely.

Inch by inch he crawled down, his terrified eyes boring holes into Misty's. But he was safe. Ash had done the hard part. She could hardly hurt herself from this height, and it would take a leap off the wall to impale herself on a rock. It took every last bit of her will not to turn and look at him, not to slide down the chain fast enough to break a few bones and get to him, because what if he wasn't fixed? What if he did die? But Max had to come first, because if Max wasn't safe, Ash didn't have a chance. If Max wasn't safe, everything Ash had done was absolutely pointless.

But once her feet touched the ground, and Max was low enough that he couldn't die if he fell headfirst, she raced to Ash's side, putting his head in her lap and drying the cold sweat off his face with her hand. Once Max stood on the ground, the points vanished and Ash gasped as the hole in his leg sealed up. His back arched and strangled gasps and strangled sounds came from his throat, his eyes wide with pain as he looked up at her.

"You're okay now?" she whispered, once his pain had seemed to subside.

"Yeah. No big deal." He patted his leg and grinned, his entire body trembling. "Just a little sore, now."

"Don't say no big deal," Misty murmured, "you almost died."

"It was just through my leg."

"And what would have happened if you had tilted? Another through your chest, your stomach, your fat head," she snapped, eyes shining with tears. "You idiot, it's a huge deal. The fall alone could have killed you."

"Nah. I'm pretty tough."

"Not that tough." She put a hand on his leg and he gulped as she felt her hand rub up and down his thigh as she inspected it. Finally she pulled her hand away with a smile. "You're fine."

"Sore in my muscle, yeah, but Max is safe."

"Thanks to you."

"And you…You're okay, right?" He eyed what parts of her he could. "The chains didn't rip up your hands, did they?"

She laughed, wiping at her eyes. "Idiot."

He grinned weakly. "I think I'm going to pass out."

She kissed his forehead softly. "Go ahead. You're okay now."

He grin grew stronger, goofy and wide. "You kissed me."

"You earned it," she said, leaning her forehead against his. "Brave, wonderful, amazing boy."

"Knew you liked me."

"Yeah," she said, choking on tears. "You got me."

He smiled, and he closed his eyes and slept, and she pressed her fingers to the vein in his neck to feel the strong, steady heartbeat that let her know he wasn't gone.

"Is the stair-haired man coming?" Brock asked.

"No. He wants this," she whispered. "And I bet Max is already gone."

"He is." Brock kneeled by her. "He vanished right after he got off the chain."

"Let's get him back to the room." She swallowed. "You're steadier, would you…?"

"No problem," he said, his arms quickly curling under Ash. "Of course."

**

* * *

**

_"She hasn't left your side, Ashy-boy."_

_"Can you blame her?"_

_"You slipped. It wasn't unexpected."_

_"Tell that to Max."_

_"He should have anticipated that."_

_"He's twelve!"_

_"I don't see how that matters."_

_"He's just a kid!"_

_"Kids have been through worse."_

_"And by kids, you mean you."_

_"Want a present, Ash?"_

_"Sorry?"_

_"Do you want a present? For not dying?"_

_"I thought that was Max."_

_"Oh, he's just a prize."_

_Lots of laughter. Loud and so cold his leg started aching all over again._

_"I'm talking much bigger."_

_"What's bigger than somebody's life?"_

_"A free gift without a challenge."_

_"Then what's the catch?"_

_"No catch."_

_"Why would I believe that?"_

_"Because I play fair."_

_"I wouldn't call this playing fair."_

_"You want her hands on you?"_

_"What?"_

_"Her hands, Ketchum. Do you want her to touch you?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You like that redhead, don't you?"_

_"I don't know what you're talking about."_

_"I can give you that. It won't be real, and it won't be her, but I can give that to you. For the night, she can be all yours. Tracey never existed. Just you and her."_

_"Tracey was my friend."_

_"Friends steal girls?"_

_"Misty was never mine, He didn't steal her."_

_"Oh, he knew you liked her. He teased you about it enough."_

_"When I was a kid."_

_"And why would he assume it changed?"_

_"I left her. We grew apart."_

_"Last time I checked he didn't even love her. He broke her heart, didn't he?"_

_"We grew apart."_

_"What's it like to want her and know she'll never want you? I've never had that problem."_

_"Shut up."_

_"You know she wouldn't, if her type was Tracey."_

_"Who says she has a type? And who says I care if she does? And why the hell wasn't Max in the gym?" _

_"She loved Tracey, so how could she go from a guy like him to a guy like you?"_

_"I don't want her."_

_"Makes you feel like crap, right?"_

_"Stop it."_

_"So why don't you feel good for once?"_

_"Stop it!" he shouted, pounding at his head. "Leave me alone!"_

_"Why don't you take her for one night? Then you'll have what you want from her. You can chase her off. Won't that be nice? Take what you want and get rid of the hassle."_

_"Let me go!" he screamed._

For a second, he was breathing in the musty air of Oak's lab, the lights burning his eyes and a quiet murmuring in the background. The next moment, he was back in the hotel, breath ragged as he sat in the fancy, well furbished place he suddenly considered disquieting and disgusting.

"You vanished!" Misty gasped, hugging him tight.

"What?"

"For a minute you…you vanished," Brock explained, looking rather stricken as well. "Your whole body was gone for a good five minutes! What'd he do?"

Ash frowned. "I don't…think he did."

"Then what happened?"

"I think it was me," he said slowly, raising his head to stare. "I…I think I got out."

**

* * *

**

I hope it was worth it! Once again, thank you all so, so much for waiting, and I hope that Hero continues to live up to your expectations!


	11. Trust Me

**Trust Me**

"You got out?" Misty asked intently. "How?"

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and when he spoke, it came out awkwardly and distant, as if it wasn't really him saying, "I don't know. I got really mad." The room was giving him vertigo now, and he fell back, trying to remind his body what it was like to be in this world. It didn't do much, and a few minutes later he was dry heaving into a bucket while Brock supported him and Misty gathered blankets to stop the shivering. The blankets did nothing to help, and his dry heaving continued.

"Calm down, Ash," Brock soothed. "You're in shock."

"No," he said, half giggling. "I'm in hell." Then promptly leaned over the bucket with dry, choking sounds.

"How'd you know you were out? I mean, did you see anyone?" Misty asked softly, squeezing his shoulder.

The boy hugged his bucket, leaning his head against the rim as he breathed. "I don't know where I am."

"You're in Hoenn, in a hotel," Brock said, lifting his head to check the boy's dilated eyes. He pushed him back softly, forcing him to lay down. "You're right here with us. I'm here, Misty's here, and so is Pikachu, and we're all worried about you."

"But I was in the lab," Ash moaned.

"What lab?"

"And before that I was in hell!" he cried, tears springing to his eyes. "It was hot and it smelled bad and all my friends were hurt and I hurt. I hurt right here!" He grabbed his leg, which twitched under his touch as if he hadn't been expecting it. "And now it doesn't hurt at all! Where am I?"

"Brock, what do we do?" she pleaded.

"Don't panic," he said softly, then turned back to Ash. "You're in shock, alright? You're a little confused. Just take a breather for a few minutes. Lay down and breathe, okay? Count backwards from one hundred for me."

"I was in Oak's lab!" he shouted, clutching his bucket tighter.

"Misty, get pillows," Brock said quickly. "We need to get his feet up."

"What's wrong?"

"It's shock, Misty. Move!"

She moved, darting quickly away and busying herself with snatching pillows off the other beds to support Ash's legs, lifting them up so they were far above his chest. Somewhere during that span, Ash had fainted. Brock was sitting there, his fingers pressed into his wrist as he monitored Ash's pulse. He motioned with his other hand that Misty could come and sit with them, and she nervously sat on the very edge of the bed, staring on.

"Is he…?" She swallowed. "He's dying, isn't he? He got out of it and now the stair-haired man is killing him."

"It's shock. Potentially fatal, but I think Ash can get through it. He's going back to normal. His blood flow is getting back to where it should be. If it hadn't, yes, we would have needed some kind of blood transfusion or…I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"How'd he do it?" she whispered. "Wake up, I mean?"

"Wake up?" Brock asked, eyes snapping over to her.

She flinched back. "It's not a dream, it's not. I can't explain it, Brock. You won't make it back if I explain it. Just know that…that this is real." She gulped. "If we die here, we die for real."

"But it's a _dream_?" he pressed suspiciously.

"No!" she cried helplessly. "It's not!"

"You know what it is?"

"I think I do. Brock, I'm not one hundred percent sure." She shook her head, then focused her eyes back on Ash. No matter how they darted to Brock, or to the ceiling, or to her hands knotting in her lap, they always came right back to Ash. "I still need to read up on some things. I have to keep reading that book to make sure that I'm right, because I'm probably not. There's no way he's who I'm thinking of. I mean, it couldn't happen. Because the guy…the guy who I'm thinking of_ died_ a really, really long time ago, and it's not like he was some huge guy either. He didn't even get his own chapter in the book, Brock! It couldn't be him!"

"Who?"

"I can't tell."

"Misty," he said firmly, in that low, authoritative voice that made her feel like she was ten all over again, "who is it?"

"I can't tell you, Brock! Because if I'm right he'll get mad and he'll _kill _you. The only reason he hasn't killed me is because…" She lowered her head. "It's for the same reason he let me save Max, I'll tell you that. And me bringing Max down, that worked out, didn't it? So, trust me, and I swear it'll work out."

"You're not giving me a lot of reason to, Misty," Brock accused.

"Trust me for old time's sake," she begged, touching his hand softly. "For every time I was scared to go, and you guys goaded me into going anyway. For every single time I told Ash not to do something stupid and he did. For me being right about getting Max and solving the riddles and knowing Ash was going to get hurt. I'm not going to ask you to trust me on anything else. If you want to think I'm crazy enough to stab you in your sleep, tie me up every night. I just really, really need to have your trust on this one last bit. We're almost out."

"And when are you coming clean?" he asked.

She promised, gushing, "The second we get out. We rescue Dawn, we're out, and I'll explain everything to everyone."

"Can't you give me anything?"

She looked away from Ash, just for a moment, before shifting a little closer to the unconscious boy and resuming her vigil. "If I tell you a secret, will we be even?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"The reason Tracey wasn't in love with me is because he was in love with Daisy," Misty whispered. The words suddenly came out in a rush, unstoppable as she pulled the scene back up in her mind, feeling the churning in her stomach making her confused as to what she was feeling. "I walked in on them kissing. They didn't see me, and they broke apart really fast. They felt guilty, and neither of them wanted to hurt me. So they swore each other off and Tracey said he would break up when the time was right. He never got the chance. I killed him one week later. It was entirely on accident, it had nothing to do with him loving my sister."

Brock shook his head. "That's not your secret."

She shook hers as well. "The reason it was on accident was because by the time this had happened I didn't love him either. I didn't know how to break up with him, how to tell him that I didn't care if he went off with Daisy." Her eyes narrowed. "And that's because the only reason I could say I didn't care was because I saw an interview with Ash with three months prior to the whole damn thing. That's the _only _reason I didn't care."

He rocked back slightly, looking between the other boy and Misty. "You're kidding me?"

"I watched it twenty eight times." She looked up guiltily. "In a _week, _Brock. I hadn't seen him for over a year. I haven't really hung out with him for four."

"And you-"

"I wasn't in love with him. I was infatuated," she said quickly, then sighed shakily. "You can't tell him. I mean, you can't tell him that I have this stupid…this crush thing. That's all it is, but it's too much pressure on him. He'll get distracted or hurt or…or it'll make things awkward between us."

"Eight years and you've finally confessed," Brock said, smiling slightly.

"You can't tell," she said firmly.

"Why not?" He smirked. "Still afraid of rejection?"

"Why not? Oh, gee, I don't know. Maybe the fact that I'm eighteen and I've got this same love struck infatuation with him that I had when I was ten. And, on top of it, I fully intend to get rid of it. It's probably just another ploy from that…that good for nothing bastard who started all this!"

"How's that working out for you?"

She smiled a bit, rolling her eyes with a blush. "Screw you, Brock."

He laughed. "So your quest to be free of the love that is Ash Ketchum is going that well?"

Her blush went darker, and she managed to look away and focus on the starlight pouring through the window. "So, is that enough to trust me?"

"I didn't need a secret to trust you, Misty."

"I know." She put her chin on her knees. She really had known, and was more than a little disappointed in herself for blurting out her little love confession when there were things far worse that she should be focusing on, like the object of her affections crippled by shock after his near death. But her chest ached so sharply it pushed the air out of her lungs, it push out the hurried, frantic, frightened words with it. "So what do I do?"

"I'd recommend something involving a bikini."

She threw her arms around his neck, fighting off the tears as she suddenly felt like she was home. It was all the same, with Brock holding all her secrets and her biggest problem suddenly feeling like a bit of unrequited love. "Oh, Mew, Brock! I missed you both so much!"

He hugged her back, squeezing tight and murmured, "You've grown so much."

She pulled away, giggling. "Oh, gees, so have you. You're a hulking, handsome piece of ass, you know that?"

"You're almost as hot as your sisters."

She laughed now, and hugged him again, squeezing the air right out of him. "You're the absolute best, Brock."

"I know." He said, rubbing her back softly. "I missed this."

"What's this?"

"You, me, Ash." He smiled. "We worked."

"We still work," Ash muttered, his eyes fluttering. "Why the hell are you two cuddling?"

"It's called a hug Ash."

"I win, Brock-o." He grinned stupidly. "She _kissed_ me."

"I kissed your forehead, you dolt."

"See, she admitted it. She kissed me. Beats out your hug, Brock."

The older boy grinned at Misty's warning glance. "Oh, Ash, you have _no _idea."

**

* * *

**

Once Ash was back to his healthy self, they decided to make their way to Sinnoh.

Problem was, when they stepped outside, they weren't in Hoenn anymore. It was Canalave, Canalave was a dock city, the kind with rivers out to the ocean and a large, pretty bridge that came from people who thrives on tourism and a library so big and gorgeous it would be an abomination to ignore it. Mist gulped nervously, her body pounding with the thought that she had been very, very wrong. After all, Misty had never been to that city, had never seen it in a magazine or in a travel brochure, because if she wanted to go somewhere, she simply went. She wrote a letter to the League and came back with a new pokémon and all was paid for. She hasn't gone to Sinnoh because Ash was in Sinnoh, and she had already left him.

"Where are we?"

"Canalave," Ash said, spinning slowly. "A_ tourist free_ Canalave, weird."

"It's really weird?"

"Downright freakish," Brock explained. "It's packed, usually. Especially since we can see the bridge from here. Areas like these usually have people swarming all over with cameras."

"Well, we're tourists."

Ash shook his head no. "We're heroes. And we're here to save Dawn."

"You're a hero," Misty said sharply. "And I'm a tourist, and how the hell did we get to Sinnoh when we were in Hoenn a minute ago?"

Ash snorted. "The star haired man is magic."

She glared, livid at his too true statement. "I know that, but why would he have just sent us here? He made us take the whole time, by boat, to get from Kanto to Hoenn. We still had the boat, we could have gotten more gas, so why would he just skip right past it?"

"Maybe he was bored," Ash shrugged. "I'd get bored, watching people do nothing for weeks. Maybe he wanted to skip to the cool part, you know, the part where I get all beat up and make my heroic life-saving stunts that awe the crowd."

She glared. "That isn't the cool part."

"I always ignore the travel scenes in action movies. I came for the explosions, not some stupid story." He shrugged. "He wants to see everyone get hurt and break down, and few weeks on a ship didn't do it last time, he's not gonna do it again. Let's just be happy he has a short attention span."

"This isn't something to be happy about."

"Don't moan, Misty. Find a silver lining."

"Silver lining? You want me to find a silver lining?" she gasped. "You almost didn't save Max last time! Excuse me for not thinking that this guy wouldn't be excited and might be eager to get this fun little show of your brutal murder on the road a bit quicker!"

"Shut up, there's no brutal murder coming to get me. I hurt my leg. Even if it was still hurt I'd be okay." He grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder, and genuinely surprised when she smacked his hand away with all the strength she had. "You're the sailor, you know how well a pirate can fight with peg legs. We'd just amputate."

"You're such a …" She bared her teeth. "You absolute ass!"

He rubbed his now sore hand. "We should go find Dawn."

"No!" Misty gasped.

Why?"

"Well…" She swallowed. "We're in Canalave."

"So?"

"You didn't meet her here, right?"

"Yeah."

"But…but the library's here!" she blurted, remembering the famous place. "We can research!"

"Research what?"

"Him." She grinned, proud of the idea. "The star haired man. We can try and figure out who he is."

"Why?"

She frowned. "This book isn't enough."

"How do you know? Did you read it at all?"

"Ash, let's just-"

"Why can't we just come back?"

"Maybe you shouldn't risk your life again after your recent fall!" she shouted.

Ash stared at her a moment, his eyes probing deeper than she liked. He compromised, "One day, so I can find a map, look for a car, then we're gone. Deal?"

She swallowed. "Deal."

He held out his hand awkwardly, and she stared at it for a moment, as if wondering if he seriously wanted to shake her hand for a deal after all the years they'd known each other. Still, weird as it was, she shook his hand and sealed it. Brock watched it all with a smile that was just a little too knowing for Misty's taste, and after she had smacked his stomach, they went off in search of the library, not that it was too hard to find.

Surprisingly, Ash remembered where it was remarkably well. He led them over the elaborate bridge, letting Misty look over the edge and be just a bit more touristy than either of the boys were, awed by the canal below. Once off the bridge, the peak of the library could be seen from anywhere in the second half of the town. As long as he walked towards it, they would find their way there. And they did. With a few swerves through the streets, he had led them to the glass building, and stood proudly in front of it. Which, both of the older two had to admit, was weird.

Because Ash Ketchum was not a fan of books.

Not to say he didn't like them, or that he hated them. He was quite neutral on the subject. It wasn't something he did for fun, but he didn't mind it. So the Canalave Library was nothing that made him very excited to visit. He liked the outside, shining and tall and fancy, but the inside was remarkably dull for him. The inside was stuffed with shelves stuffed with books, the walls painted with gorgeous murals of the Legendary pokémon from around the world. It had an elevator – an _elevator_. He'd never known a library to have its own elevator before, or so many books each floor had its own genre. His library in Pallet was lucky enough to have a corner devoted to children and teens, and that was only after a generous donation from the Oak's. He felt an awful lot like a hick in that building.

"Amazing," Misty breathed, seeming to still be in tourist mode as her head craned back.

He glanced at her. "What?"

"This is where they keep it. Any idea that's worth…that's worth anything to humanity gets put into a book, and this is where they keep all the books. It doesn't matter if it's a bad idea or a good idea, as long as it mattered. As long as it made a difference. It's here."

"Still a romantic, Misty?" he teased, elbowing her in the ribs.

"Isn't this library romantic?" she sighed in an absolutely dreamy (and extremely dead on) impression of herself at ten years old. "It makes me think about having an espresso and a baguette in a French café with pretty music in the background and me in a gorgeous floor length dress."

Brock laughed. "You forgot to direct that at Ash."

"Shut up!"

But it wasn't just her. She was joined by the red faced boy, who turned on his heel when she looked at him and plunged straight into a section on a Sinnoh's history that was up by the main desk. Technically, it was not where it was supposed to be, but it was something featured, a small sampling of what awaited in other areas. She rolled her eyes at his pathetic attempt of hiding his embarrassment, and pushed down that silly flutter in her stomach that thought about directing her previous romantic sentiments at Ash.

"We're looking for world history."

"Kanto history," Ash shot back.

"And why is that?"

"Misty, do you know how long my family has lived in Pallet?"

She sighed. "How long?"

"A few thousand years." He said flatly. "Trust me, if you want to find Chosen Ones, look through Kanto. That's where we all started. It may not be in that house, and maybe, _maybe _one or two made their way up to Viridian, but it's definitely Kanto. We don't have to look at everyone else in the world to figure it out."

She crossed her arms. "Well, do you know where that is, Sherlock?"

"Hey, I solved the mystery. You can do the grunt work, Holmes."

"That is _not_ what Holmes did."

"How should I know?"

"We _are_ in a library," she retorted. "Surrounded by books, there's probably an entire shelf for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his famous series."

"But we're here for research, not fun," he argued.

She rolled her eyes. "Read a book, Ketchum."

"I am, _Misty Waters Williams_? Nice name." Ash asked, arching his eyebrow. In his hands he held a half inch think piece of glass that made up the updated daily digital database. His fingers were flicking across the touch screen, looking through the library's files on the girl a few feet away. "Holy crap, it's got a whole profile on you! And I mean, hell, it says absolutely everything. I mean, it's got little family stories and everything. It has video clips! What else don't I know?"

"Ash, put it down!" she snapped, about to storm over.

Brock held her back with a chuckle. "Calm down. There's no secrets here."

"Hey, Brock, they got your baby pictures in here."

The boy blushed. "Ash, get out of the digitals!"

"Hey, Misty, want to see a small naked Brock?"

"Isn't small and naked redundant when we're talking about Brock?"

He glared. "I can't believe you sank so low."

"Oh, Brock," she sighed, smiling. "There's no secrets here."

"There is no secret! I'm not _small_, I'll have you know I'm-"

She immediately spun on her heel and ran up the stairs, shouting something along the lines of a childish, "La, la, la! I can't hear you!" Ash threw the glass aside and ran by Brock, taking care to smack the older boy on the back as he did. He followed them up the stairs, curving up a couple floors, stopping only briefly each time to see what each floor had for them. Finally, they found world history on the third floor and raced back into the Kanto aisle. And, twenty minutes of boring searches later, Misty thrust a book in the air.

"Through the Ages, subtitle, The Chosen Ones. Voila, boys. We've found ourselves a jackpot!" she called.

"Why?" Ash asked.

"Chosen Ones are always heroes, you know that," Misty retorted. "And they're always the biggest heroes, so if they're going to test anyone, it's going to be the biggest ones. The most noticeable ones. That's where your very special lineage comes in." She jabbed him in the chest teasingly.

Ash shook his head. "No, I was talking to Brock. He's over here still talking about how you just insulted his manhood. I mean, why did you try sharing that piece of information with us? Why would we ever want to know whether or not you have an appropriately sized thing?"

Misty pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's called a penis, Ash."

"How would you know?" he snapped, blushing.

"Ash, I'm eighteen. I know what a penis is."

He arched his eyebrow and beamed over the aisles. "From experience?"

She stared for a moment, then rolled her eyes. "Okay, so. The Chosen-"

"No, good question," Brock agreed, leaning on one of the shelves. "I know Ash doesn't have any _experience_, and despite how hard I try, I don't have any either. So, Misty, do you have some stories to share?"

"I'm not going to tell you whether or not I'm a virgin."

Brock nodded. "Don't worry, Ash. She's definitely pure."

"You don't know that!" she yelped. "And what the hell does the fact of my chastity belt being intact have to do with the situation we're in?"

"We're two sexually strung out boys, and you have boobs," Brock explained. "This conversation had to happen sooner or later. I'm sorry, Misty, but the fact that I usually think of you as a sister does not excuse the fact that we are absolutely not related by blood."

She glared. "_Through the Ages: The Chosen Ones_. How about you start reading this one, and since I'm the only one whose blood is apparently still fighting against gravity and going up into my heart instead of down into my pants, I'll walk far away from the two of you and see if I can find something else that could be helpful."

"You made the sex joke, Misty Waters," Ash muttered.

She threw a book at his head. He picked it up, assuming it was another book on Chosen Ones. It was not. It was simply the heaviest hardcover within her reach. So, instead he took the other book from Brock, throwing another digital database aside, and sitting down with a grumpy look on his face as he began to read. Brock read over his shoulder for a few minutes, but after a couple of chapters and realizing he didn't have a clue what he was looking for, he excused himself from Ash and went off to find Misty.

She was on the other side of the floor by now, and she was carrying a small stack of books in her hands, none of them looking anywhere near as helpful as the one up front. Instead, they were small collections of Chosen One histories, and one that was some weird collection of scientific history. Brock tugged her deeper into the shelves, and she tripped into the aisle with him, scanning behind her once to make sure Ash hadn't seen them or at least wouldn't follow. The boy seemed much too wrapped up in his book to care. Brock prodded at her, forcing her to abandon her search for Ash and focus on the boy on front of her.

"If you know who it is, why are you fumbling around and acting like you don't have a clue?" he accused.

She balanced her books precariously on the shelf, mumbling, "I don't know for sure."

"You have an idea, though?"

"Yes! And we're not_ fumbling_. I know what we're looking for, and we're looking in the right places."

"We're looking at Chosen Ones!" Brock hissed. "How does seeing his predecessors get slaughtered help anything?"

She hissed back, "Because that's where _he_ is!"

"He's in their _slaughter_?"

"In the aneurisms," she explained. "A lot of them…they didn't always have the word, but it was an aneurism for most. They had the symptoms, and in the ones they autopsied they talked about how the veins were always bulging. They weren't just one. It was…it was like an explosion in their head, Brock. They exploded every last one."

"He made a blood vessel in their head explode. How'd he manage THAT?"

"First of all, it's way more than one. Second of all, it always happens when they're young, teens or early twenties, for all of them, except Ash so far." She sighed, closing her eyes for a second and pushing out a few horrible images in her mind before pressing on. "But if you go back, the pattern breaks. Chosen Ones make it past thirty. They live a happy, successful life. So, he wasn't there then, or he was learning how to do all of this."

"But how does an aneur-"

"Think, Brock! Don't make me say it." She clenched her fists. "If I say it, it'll draw his attention."

"Misty, I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I don't get it."

"All of the Chosen Ones were born in Kanto," she hissed. "Ash's family was born in Kanto. In Pallet, Brock. Every last one of them was born in Pallet. All of this actually started happening once Ash came back to Pallet. The star haired man waited for _weeks _before attacking, even though Ash saw him on the bridge. Don't you see it?"

"I see the pattern, but I don't know what it means. Just tell me, Misty."

She gulped, leaning forward. "He looks like Ash."

"What?"

"His features look just like Ash. Different colors, that's it." She licked her lips. "Think, Brock. Make the connection."

And then he did. His eyes went wide and he clutched onto Misty's hand. "Which one is he?"

"I have to find the story. I'll give it to you the second I do. But I can't say it. He'll run over in no time if I say it."

But Ash came over, eyes wide as he held out the book. She asked him right of the bat what he had heard, not that she needed too. It was clear he had heard everything, in the way he ducked his head and was breathing quickly one moment and slow the next. It was clear he had made the same connection Brock had, and that all three of them were just about as close to solving the mystery of how and why they were where they were as Misty had been just a few minutes before.

"This is what you need."

"The story?" she asked softly, taking the book and pressing it to her chest.

He stared for a moment, then whispered, "He's a Chosen One, too?"

And, instantly, every light in the library went out. They weren't proud that they screamed. The only thing that happened was that the light went out and a nice, chilly wind flew through behind them, but they screamed like something had grabbed them or as if something was hiding out in the darkness. There wasn't. It had been a cheap scare tactic, so ridiculous Ash half expected an eight year old Gary to come sneaking around the corner and laugh about how surprised their faces had bee. Instead, the library lit up and was no longer a library.

Well, it was a library. It was a smaller library, though. A big, circular room about the size of a classroom, with floors of a deep colored, smoothly finished wood. The lower half of the wall, in spot uncluttered by tables and windows and shelves, was covered with a lighter, upright slats of wood, while the top half was made with a boring white wallpaper, flecked with green. It scooped into a well at the center, with two shallow steps down into the carpeted floors the were covered with toys and random household objects. The ceiling above was rounded, painted with Sinnoh's constellations.

"Beautiful," Misty murmured, feeling a bit like a broken record.

"Where's the light?" Ash asked.

"What?"

"There's no lights here," he continued slowly. "So why is it light?"

"I'm focused on the little podium." Brock pointed, shaking off his own eerie feelings about where the light could have come from.

The little wooden podium was aimed towards the well, like one might bring in a class and read them Where the Wild Things Are or a selection from the Junie B Jones series. They went to it, eyeing the paper flat on the podium as if it would come up with a snap, and take off their heads or their hands. Ash nudged Misty forward, and after a sharp glare his way, she tentative picked up the paper and told the boys, "It's another riddle."

"There aren't any doors. Do we need a mirror?"

"There are windows," she said. "And we did that one already."

"What's this one then?"

She read, sounding genuinely confused, _"I'm afraid to go home. The man in the mask is there."_

"I don't like this," Ash muttered.

"I don't like that I'm here. Can't this be another riddle date for you two?"

Her fingers drummed at the wood. "_I'm afraid to go home._"

"Yeah, we heard you."

"Home is the key. The man in the mask can be a number of things. If you figure out what home is, you've got the riddle."

"Home is where the heart is?"

"The man in the mask, then." She frowned. "Denial's the man in the mask?"

Behind them came an old, rusty groan, and they turned to see a large metal gate sliding up before a dark hallway. A creature stumbled forward from its depths, much bigger than it should have been for its type. It had a huge, monstrous form, made of solid muscle and twice the size of the average slaking. It cracked the floor with every massive step it took forward, its hulking form casually sniffing the air and focusing hard on the group in front of it.

Misty gulped. "Please, please tell me you have a slaking."

Ash squeaked. "I don't have a slacking."

"Please tell me this slaking looks as lazy as all fuck."

"This slaking looks like it could hunt down a rapidash and skip home on a full belly," Ash squeaked again. His hand instantly went to his belt, pressing the button on one of the containers and feeling it expand comfortable under his hand and he sighed a little bit. "My pokeballs are working."

"Are you going to let one out?" Brock growled.

"Um…I don't want to startle it. It looks rather peaceful right now." Ash paused. "Well, not peaceful. Bored. Bored and bloodthirsty. Where does he find these things?"

"He makes them," Brock retorted. "Like he makes everything else in this world. Right, Misty?"

"How should I know?" she snapped.

"Maybe it won't attack until we make another guess." Ash swallowed, and elbowed the girl next to him. "Misty, get it right this time."

"Why don't I know this one?" she muttered. "The answer's probably about-"

The slaking let out a long slow snort, and the whole group froze, all except Brock, who said, "Don't be sarcastic."

"What?"

"It'll take it as a guess. Don't be sarcastic."

"I'll try not to. Give me another definition."

"Home is a house," Ash tried.

"I…give me another!"

"I can't think!" Ash yelped. "There's a giant monster that wants to eat me. I'm a bit busy coming up with battle strategies."

"You're such a boy!" she squeaked.

"Now isn't the time for arguing," Brock retorted. "Can we start thinking?"

"You suggest an idea!" Misty growled. "Oh, you're over there with your jokes about us dating. Well, Brock-o, now's not the time for joking. We need some answers, so you better start brainstorming what home means to you."

"Uh…I…" He swallowed. "Family?"

"So what would the man in the mask be?"

Brock laughed a little. "My dad on Halloween?"

The slaking's jaw opened and it screamed, the roar so powerful for a second, the three (and Pikachu) went deaf. But Ash's mouth formed the word "thunderbolt" so the mouse leapt forward and released the attack, a Thunder. It wasn't what his master ordered, but he was afraid of the beast that didn't feel like a real pokémon, with nothing but a carnal sort of rage coming off of it in a thick, coppery scent. It fell back, crying out, then shook its massive head and roared at Pikachu. The Thunder hadn't done a thing.

Pikachu looked back at Ash, eyes wide. "Agility!" he ordered, then grabbed Misty by the wrist and pulled her up onto the nearest table. "Start thinking, Misty."

"What the hell do you mean?" she shouted. "Let me help!"

"We don't have time for this crap! Brock and I can't solve riddles, you can, so fucking work on it!"

But her mind was with him. She was a trainer first, a gym leader first, and her mind buzzed with ways to try and stop the beast. She didn't have her pokémon, yet she was flicking through their list of attacks, thinking of the strengths and weakness of the beast in front of her. Then he slapped her, hard enough to make her thoughts stop. She looked up to yell at him, but he leaned down to her, eyes locked fiercely on and growled, "Misty, _think_."

He ran off, leaving her behind to brainstorm.

He tossed a pokeball to Brock, not bothering to check which pokémon. It was a normal type, and he only had one fighting type on him. Though, he doubted it mattered either way. If the thing could brush off Pikachu's Thunder, all he was going to manage to pull off would be a minor distraction. So that was what he intended on doing. He didn't plan on knocking it out, or harming the beast, just distracting it form the girl on the table. Out came Torterra from his pokeball, and Brock released Infernape. And, what did good distractions do? Stop the opponent.

Torterra's eyes glowed with nature's power, and grass grew between the cracks, reached out and tripped the massive beast. It fell to the ground so hard the wood cracked beneath it. It sat up glaring at the plants that bound its feet, and snapped it easily. Infernape beat at it with kicks and hits, anything that might have been a fighting type move or perhaps a valiant struggle. The fire type danced away after each hit, continuously looking back at Ash with a clear fear glowing in his eyes.

Once, however, he looked a little too long, and the slaking picked it up and sat down, letting the pocket monster struggle in its hand. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed at the thing that had harmed it, ignoring Torterra as he beat at it with leaves and seeds while Pikachu did everything he could. Then, the slaking squeezed. There was a horrifying cracking sound, and screams ripped from all their throats as Infernape went limp in the monster's hands. A moment later, the massive mouth opened once more and sunk its teeth into the corpse, ripping it apart and gulping it down with a cheerful lee.

"Pikachu, get back!" Ash shouted.

The little mouse looked up and shook its head.

"Pikachu, _get back _or I'll put you in your ball!" He ripped it out on his pocket and flashed it at his dearest friend, the lightning mark showing that it was, in fact, Pikachu's. "Get the hell away from that thing!"

Pikachu didn't. He used Thunder once more, the whole library covered in clouds and a jet of lightning as thick as the slaking coming down on its head. The slaking grunted its displeasure and turned, tromping after the mouse, its massive jowls stained with coppery blood. He was quick, and he stayed far away, half listening to his master's orders. Pikachu got away from it, alright, but he continued the battle with long distance attacks. Little zaps and thunderbolt kept it mad, tumbling after him.

Even while Ash was screaming in his ears to return, and little jets of red light were hot on his tail.

Then Misty broke it, she stood on the rickety wooden table and screamed over Ash and Brock and the thunderous pounding of hands and feet, "Baseball!" The slaking looked at her, stood up on its hind legs with Pikachu forgotten and roared. "_I'm afraid to go home because the man in the mask is there!_ The player can't go back because of the catcher! It's baseball! I fucking hate baseball but it's _baseball_!" It roared again, stomping up to her with teeth bared. "Ash, find it!"

"What?" he shouted back. "Pikachu, Thunder!"

She looked at him, barely registering that he had just put Pikachu back in harm's way, eyes wide as the slaking began to raise its massive paw. "_Ash! The baseball!_"

He leapt at the slaking, a chair in hand, then slammed it hard into the thing's back. It spun to face him, nostrils flaring, and he realized that if the combined attacks of his pokémon wouldn't leave a dent, his pathetic muscles and a chair wouldn't do much. But he had to do something. He couldn't have the beast crushing Misty like some horrible rewrite of King Kong. He supposed doing something else, _anything _else to get its attention would have been smarter

Misty seemed to agree, shouting back, "Are you fucking retarded?"

"I'm trying to save your life. Sorry!" he shouted back, throwing his arms out to the side. "Next time, I'll let you die!"

"Stop bitching and get the baseball!" she shouted, picking up the nearest thing to her of the closest bookshelf and tossing it at the slaking's head, which was still very focused on Ash. Which, once it bounced off and rolled to the floor, she immediately took back her previous insult.

Ash gawked. "Was that the baseball?"

She made a face a muttered a few choice swear words. Brock commanded torterra to use Razor Leaf. The turtle pushed the beast back with attacks aimed at the nose and the eyes, anything that might be sensitive, allowing Ash to race forward and pick it up. The red stitching and white fabric vanished into the classic color of a pokeball. He decided not to take the time to check what pokemon it was. Instead, he raced across, snatched up Misty's and Brock's hands, then tugged them out down a now obvious door marked exit.

The slid out the door, and it slammed behind them, the slaking now settled in its cage with a look of mild disappointment, its meaty hand waving at them at it pushed out through the gate, trying to call them back, the library now little more than the single room they'd been standing in and large windows for looking at the thing. The three stared at it, before Ash said in a voice that was surprisingly steady and calm, "Why did it kill Infernape?"

Misty took a shuddering breath. "Ash, have you ever had a Happy Meal?"

"Yeah."

"Imagine the toy in that was not only edible, but made of delicious candy." She shook her head, her knees feeling weak. "He…oh, Mew."

"You think it wanted to eat us, or do you think that it just…?"

"Ash, this isn't really a matter of thinking. I'm pretty damn positive it wanted to eat us."

"I'm going to back Misty up on this." Brock's voice was shaking hard as well. "Even if she did throw the baseball."

"I panicked. It's scary."

The thing grunted, falling back on its ass and letting a low rumble out from the back of its throat, its hand still hanging limply outside of the bars.

Then Ash fell to his knees and cried, deep, wracking sobs, and his friends held him until he stopped, because there was nothing else to do. And when his tears finally faded away and he was able to stand on his own two feet, they wandered Canalave for a hotel. They chose the lowest floor, the easiest entrance, and though it wasn't as fancy as the last place they crashed, it was nice enough. It had beds and kitchens fully stocked, and they sat and ate chocolate to dull the pain.

Then night fell. It came so quick and they were all so exhausted that they hadn't bothered cleaning up, and fell asleep on their beds surrounded by chocolate wrappers and stains on the bed. Ash woke up at midnight, ears practically twitching at a vaguely familiar sound. He rolled over softly to see where it was coming from, a bit afraid that the star haired man would be sitting there with a wicked snarl, about to douse him in another round of psychological warfare.

"_Young soldier, young soldier, come marching home. You field unattended you wife's all alone. The babies they cry, they'll reach out and grin, when young soldier, young soldier comes marching in."_

That wasn't the star haired man. It was a song, and it was from Kanto, and it woke up all sorts of long nights where his mother would sing to him before he went out traveling. It was Misty singing it, and it wasn't in those sweet, motherly tones he was used to the song being sung. It was the tone that said she was worried, left home alone while her brothers and uncle and fathers had gone out to fight a war, and many already weren't returning.

"_The battle, the battle is calling to you. We know you must go, we know that you do. Still lonely are we, without our men here. Young soldier your dying is all that we fear._

"_Oh the road is so long and the risks are so high, while things are attacking from water and sky. The land that you tread on is growling for meat, for the blood of the soldier and the last battle's heat._

"_Young soldier, young soldier, don't die out there. We sit and we hope and we send you our prayers. Your children are waiting and your wife dreams of you. Younger soldier, come marching, young soldier please do._"

He sat up slowly, hearing her begin another round of the song, the same verse and chorus, and whispered, "I'm not going to die, Mist."

"And…and who says I was singing about you, huh?" she snapped, glaring at him with red rimmed eyes. "Maybe I was just singing. It's a nice song, you know."

He reached his hand across their beds, wrapping his hand around her wrist. "Misty, I'll be back."

The redhead stared at where their skin touched, horrified that it tingled. Her hand vanished under the pillow, and she locked eyes with him, suddenly sounding very solemn, "Ash, when we save Dawn, the first part is over."

"You mean it's _all_ done."

"No. The first part, Ash. Just the first part. There's plenty more to come, and it's going to be a lot harder than this, trust me." Her eyes narrowed. "When you save her, the first thing you'll be told is that it's not real. That everything that happened down here wake up, you think it's a dream, he gets to wait until you die and he can play his little game all over again."

"Why would I think it's all a dream?"

"Ash, listen. They're going to tell you it's not real, but I'm going to believe it, and so is May and Max and Dawn and…" She swallowed, rolling away from him and seeming to reach for something on the floor. "Say you trust me, Ash."

"I trust you."

"With anything."

"With anything," he agreed.

"Hold out your hand," he did, and, in a flash, she twisted and her hand was slammed onto his, the searing piece of medal that was the Cerulean badge burning between them. He screamed and pulled back on instinct, but her hand was locked much too fiercely on his. Her face was an inch from his, eyes flicking to the slowing waking Brock. "I know you think I'm crazy, Ash, but this'll make sense. I promise, just give it a minute."

"Let go!" he cried, twisting. "How the hell did you heat this up, anyway?"

She dug her nails into the back of his hand once, then dropped it. "You'll remember how you got this. It's a second degree burn, we don't have any special cream to make the scars go away, not on us, at least. No matter what this will be your proof." She held up her hand, the burn welling up on her palm. "If you ever need something to help you believe, just look down."

"You branded me," he realized, staring at his hand. "Why?"

"You'll have this until the day you die. You'll never forget. And when they see my hand in the same place, they'll know it's absolutely true."

"Misty, what's going on?" Brock asked, sitting up slowly.

"I can't tell." She shook her head. "Go back to sleep, Brock."

"Did you just _burn _him?" he asked. "Is that a _fire _next to your bed?"

"It's small and containable," she retorted, then looked back at Ash. "Remember the shock you went into?"

"Yeah."

"If you know what's going on, it'll be a hundred time worse. You can't go through it."

"But you can?"

"Probably not, but I don't want to take you down with me."

"But you-"

Brock groaned, getting to his feet. "Alright, I'll stop being the third wheel. I'm going to go find chocolate cake. Because, you know what? I don't care that we've eaten our weights in chocolate. I think I could use some more comfort food. Hell, I might make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

Misty smiled at him, and that was all the thanks and incentive he needed to leave. Misty held her hand up to Ash, showing him the horribly bubbling, burned skin. "You said you trusted me, no matter what happened, Ash, we trust each other. Right now, that's all we have. Trust."

He smiled weakly. "What about hope?"

"Hope is for people who don't have good plans." She glared. "Ketchum, we are going to make a hell of a plan when we get out of here. No matter how much you hate me."

"I don't hate you," he argued. "Mist, I could never hate you."

"You could too."

"Probably, but I don't right now." He held his hand up to his face. "You know, I just wish you had warned me before you burned your badge into my hand. I would have asked for something cooler, maybe a tattoo on my shoulder of a gravestone."

She arched an eyebrow. "A gravestone tattoo?"

"Yeah."

"Who the hell has a gravestone tattoo?"

"Well, if you had talked to me, I would have."

"You're _never_ getting a gravestone tattoo."

"And who are you to say?"

"I'm Misty. Don't you remember that you have to do whatever I say?"

He laughed. "Whatever you say?"

"Uh huh."

"I don't remember that."

"Then I'm going to have to teach you all over again," she shot back. "We've spent way too much time apart, Ketchum. You've forgotten all those rules I taught you."

He rushed forward, grabbing her around her waist, and wrestling with her on the bed. She shrieked, kicking him away. "You're going to set me on fire, you idiot!"

He stopped, arms still clenched around her waist. His lips brushed her ear as he leaned forward, retorting in his corniest pick up line voice, "You always set me on fire. Don't you think I ought to repay the favor?"

She giggled, twisting out of his arms to face him. "You shouldn't start something if you don't intend to finish it. Are you going to run off and get a spike through your leg before I can kiss you properly this time? Because I'm not taking another excuse like that again."

"Good."

"Good?" she repeated.

"Before I save Dawn, Misty…" He swallowed. "I don't know if you know this, but I had a crush on your when I was little. I know I said I didn't, but I had a crush on you when I was eleven. I remember we were in the Orange Islands, and you said something about people changing when they kissed. And you know what?"

She sighed. "You thought I was talking about people involving into superheroes?"

"Actually, no." He laughed a little. "I, uh, I was thinking about what it'd be like to kiss you, and that's when I figured out I had a crush on you."

"Oh," she replied, eyes widening. "I didn't know."

"If I die-"

She shook her head. "Let's not talk about it."

"Misty, please. If I die, I don't want to…" He shook his head. "Everyone's got a bucket list. I've done pretty much everything on mine. I mean, hell, I'm not a pokémon master in title, but I think I'm pretty damn close anyway, and I can't do anything about it here. But the one thing I've always wanted, that I've always regretted, was that I let you leave and I never kissed you. I didn't even try. I've always, _always_ regretted not kissing you."

"Really?" She grinned. "I'm on the famous Ketchum's lists of should haves?"

"You're number one."

"Careful, Ash. My ego is showing."

"So, can I cross you off the list?" he asked, nervously. "As a guy's wish on death row?"

"You mean…you want a kiss?"

"That's all. I don't need to get into your pants tonight. We can save it for when I come back."

She took his hand in hers, their burns touching. "Ash Ketchum, I solemnly promise you that if you do me the favor of coming back alive, not only will you get to cross me off your list, you'll be allowed to kiss me anytime you want. Just come on up, kiss me right on the lips and walk away."

He shrugged. "That's a good incentive. I might take you up on that."

"Yeah," she countered, "but it means that we can't kiss until you get back from saving Dawn."

"But I can kiss you anytime I want afterwards?"

She laughed. "Hey, if you come back without a scratch, I might even throw in some tongue. Sounds like a deal?"

"I'd rather have cash."

"And why's that?"

"Because then I could pay your sisters," he joked.

"Ash Ketchum, you ass!" She gasped, and slapped him hard on the shoulder.

He caught her wrists and stared at her for a moment, eyes flashing up at her lips that were no longer stuck in a teasing smile, but slightly parted. Her heart stopped for a moment, and she wondered if he was really going to kiss her, despite all the teasing and flirting, that he would really take the chance. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, though, holding his lips there far longer than necessary. Then he pulled away softly, wordlessly, and went back to bed,

And Misty followed him with her eyes, barely breathing, before flipping over and staring down at her shaking hand. Then she closed her eyes, blinked back tears and whispered, "_Damn._"

* * *

Sorry I've been away for so long, but this was a BIG chapter! So, line on up and take your bets as to where it'll go from here.

And, Happy Holidays! (though, er, some of them have ended already)


	12. Real

**Real**

She put a hand over her face and moaned softly, very softly, because she couldn't wake the boys up. Ash had things to do in the morning, and she certainly didn't want to bother Brock again with her fun little problem. It was silly, anyway. So her heart beat a little faster. So her hands got shaky. So her whole body set on fire and she forgot how to breathe and all she could think about was leaping up and throwing him down until she finally got rid of all her crazy thoughts.

So she breathed in and out, tried to still her hands and whispered, "This isn't happening."

"What?" The star haired man whispered, and there was the heavy weight. He wasn't suddenly in the bed, but crawling in next to her, shuffling under the covers like a kid at a sleepover and giggling like he shouldn't have been up so late. "What can't be happening?"

She shook her head, eyeing his cat like pupils expanding in the dark. "Say what you want, but I won't fall in love with him."

"It's seems a little late for that, don't you think?" His eyes looked surprisingly innocent, as did his typically creepy smile. She was struck with the strangest idea that he actually cared, that this was another round of psychological torture, but a genuine interest. It was why she let him keep talking. "It seems like you never really fell out of love with him, did you? You practically melted over him when you saw that interview. Did you think just ignoring him would make it better?"

She shrugged. "It could."

"You never got your closure, what would ignoring him do?"

"It'd give me the time to get over him. To find someone new. It'd give him the time to find someone, and then I could finally know that I could really never, ever have him. Then it'd be solved. I'd get over him. I'd find someone else. We'd be friends." She closed her eyes with a little shudder. "Easy as pie."

"It couldn't have worked. It doesn't matter how much time you spent apart. It never would have happened. You'll end up with him no matter what."

"Just because that's how you want it to go doesn't means that's how it'll end up." She shook her head and opened her eyes once more. "Why don't you just leave me alone? I don't want to work this out, and especially not with you."

"But I do want you to be happy," he whispered. "It's more fun that way, to give you that flash of happiness and take it away."

"Oh? Is that why you did it?" she said airily. "And here I thought it all had something to do with me being a Gym Leader. See, that's why you bothered Brock, and you bothered May, because that was her birthright and she rejected it. And Max, well, you just sympathize with that little boy, so he got off without any real pain even though he's the next leader of…whatever gym they own. To be honest, I really don't care."

"Clever girl." He smirked.

"Clever boy," she retorted. "Brilliant boy."

"You know who I am?"

"I do."

He grinned. "You know why I hate you?"

"You don't hate me." She rolled her eyes. "In fact, your obsession with me is bordering on creepy."

"Then you know how I'm going to do it?"

"I have some theories."

He cupped her cheeks leaning close so that they were a breath apart. "You'll love him, and he you, and just when you love each other so much you can hardly stand it, I'll take him away."

"It won't happen." The man's smile grew. "Oh, if I fall for him, there's no way in hell you're getting him."

"I got your last boyfriend."

"You had nothing to do with Aiden." She glared. "Nothing is going to happen to Ash."

"Then you'll be the first damsel to keep her hero."

"Thank Mew I'm not a damsel then." She grinned, and plucked his hands from her face. "Thank Mew he's not my hero."

He frowned. "You should have kissed him."

"He's coming back tomorrow. A little worse for wear, but he'll be back."

"Misty, you stupid girl." He glared and flicked her nose. "I'm telling you, you should have kissed him."

She would have smacked him for that. She might have punched him wherever she could had he still been there. But he left her alone, simmering in the very real thought that Ash might not make it back and she, like the idiot she was, passed up the chance to kiss him and took away what could have been a nice dying wish. It wasn't like she had to sleep with him, or flash her boobs, she just had to go and be a romantic about it. She had to give him that extra incentive to come back, as if living wasn't going to be incentive enough.

It couldn't have hurt, just to give him a peck on the lips, would it? Would it really have changed anything? Would it really have said that she didn't think he was coming back? It was just a kiss, after all. That was the end of it. She sat up with a scowl, legs crossed as she peered around the room at the two sleeping boys, at the dosing mouse who was curled up at the end of the bed, then curled her fists into the covers into tight little balls.

She had done right. No matter what happened, what challenge would be set up tomorrow, Ash Ketchum would come back. Misty would welcome him back with open arms and would give him a kiss that would make his head spin. She didn't care if nothing came from it, if right after that he left and said it wasn't anything like what he thought it would be. If he said that they could never be a couple, and he went off with anyone else. It didn't matter, not as long as he came back.

She refused the very thought of anything else.

She was _right _not to kiss him.

**

* * *

**

The morning brought a search for a car. It brought hours of breaking into garages and scrambling for keys. They didn't have Gary anymore, and though Brock was useful for many, many things, cars were nowhere near his area of expertise. There was no one there who could help repair a car, who could hotwire one, and there was no real solution for it. So, the only thing to do was to break into every car and every house until they found one with keys. That took hours, and it was afternoon by the time they finally found one that ran. One that, much to Misty's horror, was a hideous, lime green gas guzzling pick-up truck.

Her nose wrinkled. "Ew."

"Don't be picky," Ash muttered.

"But…ew. This is like global warming two point o' on wheels." She shuddered and elbowed him. "I mean, I swear, this thing could single handedly trash an environment and every organism with it, not to mention probably take out a few other ecosystems on the side."

"You're being overdramatic."

"And the car looks like vomit."

He laughed at that, quick and short and nervous. "Anything else?"

"If we get some pillows and a blanket I can sleep in the back."

"That sounded positive." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I can be positive."

"Either way, you're not sleeping in the back of the truck," Ash argued. "The last thing we need is for you to be bounced out of randomly attacked by some evil bird."

"I'm supposed to be the worrier, not you," she teased. "But I'm not driving. The back seat is mine."

"Shotgun," Ash said immediately, smirking at Brock.

"Fine. I'll drive. It'd not like I'm tired or anything. It's not like old Brock would like a break after he's the one who finally found the working car." He gave a sidelong look at the teens, to see if his guilt trip was working. However, Misty was already sliding into the back and Ash was snickering as he walked around to the shotgun seat. "You know, I'm a terrible driver."

"Gary tried to kill us!" Misty cried from the back seat as she slammed the door. "You can't get much worse than that."

He gave a grunt that suggested otherwise, but he slid into the car nevertheless. They pulled out, drove over the bridge, and from there on out was a drive that would take only a few hours. Not bad, considering it was one that shouldn't have been capable at all. But was the car rolled along, the land never ended. There was a transition to water, where the land had once stretched ocean now surrounded them but for a long strip of sandy, muddy mess that seemed ripped up from the depths, making them glad for the pick-up truck that wouldn't skid across the muddy sands.

"You should practice driving out here," Brock said. "There's no one to hit, and we all know that you need the practice, Ash. Especially in an area where you can't kill anyone but us."

"Not really in the mood," he muttered.

He looked away from the road, which he knew he shouldn't have done, but did anyway. "Nervous?"

"Yeah." Ash leaned his head against the window. "I barely made it out last time. And my leg…" He gulped and squeezed the spot. "It's still aches. It's all scarred over, and it feels like…it feels like it really got hurt."

"Don't the others?"

"No." He shook his head. "Nothing else."

"It's a warning," Misty whispered. "Of what happens when you get too close. He'll pull it away."

"I just want to save Dawn. She's the last one. I save her and…" He trailed off, wondering exactly what happened in the end.

Misty finished the sentence for him: "There should be another riddle."

"It's with her."

"How do you know? I don't even know that."

"It's the grand finale, Misty." He leaned back in his seat and glared at the road ahead. "He's got to make it interesting."

"I guess," she agreed softly. "Do you really think he's going to do it all at once?"

"You know him best."

"All I know is that you really need to be careful because he's out for blood." She shrugged. "You're probably right though. He seems like the type who would really want a nice dramatic ending."

"Uh-huh."

"It better not be an ending, Ketchum." She crossed her arms. "If you die doing one of his stupid challenges I swear I will set your body on fire and use it as fertilizer."

"Have you been reading my will?"

"You don't have a will."

"How do you know? I've been in loads of life threatening situations. I'm smart enough to make a will."

"No." And it wasn't just Misty who said it, but Brock who chimed in with a snicker and a shake of his head.

"Oh, come on!"

Brock accused, "Ash, what do you even own to give away?"

"I have things."

"Wait, no." Misty leaned forward. "He has pokémon. Give him that. I know that he filled out those forms when he got his trainer's license."

"Alright," he conceded. "Besides your pokémon, what do you have?"

"Guess who's not getting my video games when I go, Brock."

"By the time you die you'll have sold all of them," Misty snapped. "What old man has a bunch of video games lying around?"

"I don't have a will," Ash sighed.

"We know."

And on they rumbled in silence.

**

* * *

**

"You really can do this," Misty whispered, squeezing his shoulder and the car slowed to a stop. "It'll be hard, I know, but you can do it."

The star haired man appeared in the road just ahead of them, smiling his wicked smile and daring them to try and run him over. Brock was half tempted to slam on the accelerator, just on the off chance that he was bluffing and that a few thousands of pounds of metal could end the nightmare for good. But ash had unclipped and Misty was half draped around him, whispering words of encouragement like she was sending her lover off to war or wishing her husband good luck on his next big promotion.

Ash seemed completely unphased by this. "Well, if I fail I'll be dead. So, you know, really not a long term consequence thing."

"That's true," Brock agreed, eyeing them suspiciously. "Except that I really don't want to die, and I'm pretty sure if you go that crazy guy is going to drag us down with you."

Misty giggled and dropped her voice even lower, though, much to her embarrassment she had kept it loud enough for Brock to hear. Ash was surprised, considering how she got so close to his ear that he could feel her lips brushing against his skin. "And you don't get a kiss unless you come back."

"What?" Brock gasped. "You two are a couple now?"

"Now, we made a deal." Ash grinned as Misty fell back, blushing. "If I come back without a scratch I can French her."

"Nice!" He held his hand up for a high five, and, though knowing Misty would kill him for it, Ash gave one like he was a frat boy who finished the last keg of beer, not like a man about to run off and face his death. "I told you heroes always got hot girls in the end."

"First of all, he hasn't 'got' me," Misty growled. "Second of all," and she lightened up quite a bit here, "hot?"

Eyes were rolled and Ash pushed her playfully into the back seat. Then, suddenly sober when the doors slammed shut behind them, they stood and faced the star haired man. Ash took the lead, his friend standing behind him in what looked like a rather tough looking back up. However, he didn't seem too intimidated, and instead, he bit his nails in a very calm manner, thoroughly examining and sweeping any dirt out from underneath his nails.

That left Ash to make the first move. "Where is she?"

The man sighed. "Ash, it occurs to me that I haven't been too true to my challenge, that I haven't been accurate in all my promises to you. After all, I promised that this wasn't about your friends or your family or your pokémon.

"It's about you. I've been going off with all these challenges and making them about your friends, and that's not right, is it, Ash? I shouldn't break my promises, I need to keep this about you. Because we all know you're a good friend, and we know your friends are good people. You know how to pick them. What we want to know, Ash, what all our viewers at home _really_ want to know, is are you really cut out to be a hero. Can you handle yourself and play with the big boys?"

He snorted. "Are you done talking?"

"Ooh, Ash is angry." The star-haired man arched an eyebrow. "Something has upset him. Is it because my pet crushed yours? Was my monkey just a _little bit_ more powerful than yours? Funny, isn't it? I'm not even a trainer! But my pokémon isn't hurt. Poor thing is just hungry. Where's your pokémon, Ash?" He grinned. "Did my little slaking even leave you with a body?"

Ash trembled, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes and blurring the man in front of him. "Infernape was my friend."

"I love hearing you use that past tense. It's downright beautiful, Ash, my boy." He cackled. "Oh, my _kin_, more like. No use hiding it now. Misty over there decided to let all my little secrets out. Well, most of my little secrets out. She knows what would happen if she let too many slip."

Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, and the air around her seemed to simmer from her rage. "One last challenge, and you're a dead man. Once we get out of here, I swear to Arceus I will drown you myself! Right in my damn pool!"

"So we're related," Ash said icily. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean I have anything to do with you. Unless you're going to say you're my dad. Is that the big twist? Am I going to have to scream like Luke Skywalker?"

"Silly boy, I'm too old to be your dad. Oh, what incestuous sheets those would be, sweet prince."

Ash blinked back at his friends and whispered, "What the hell does that mean?"

"It's Shakespeare," Brock hissed.

"What?"

"It's Hamlet, Ash. Honestly, I told you to read a book, didn't I?" Misty moaned.

"You hate reading, too?" The man laughed. "Not so different after all!"

"We really, really are." That stopped the embarrassment. His whole body went stiff and he took a step back to his friends to his reassurance. Brock put a hand on his shoulder, and Misty's hand swiftly grabbed onto his, squeezing it so hard his knuckles cracked.

"So I guess you don't want to play with me, huh?" He clicked his tongue and let out a low whine. "No witty banter beforehand? All the work I put into it, all the jokes I thought up, and you just want to rush right in to die. After all that research I did on you to make this one game really fantastic. I tried harder on yours than I have in a very long time, Ash. In fact, this might have been more work than any other challenge before."

"What research?"

"What research? The fears of your friends, where you met them, not to mention all that extra work I spent on Dawn for this challenge. It didn't hurt any of your friends one bit. Well, unless they gave into their fears, I suppose." He giggled. "Well, I didn't hurt your friends, but you might. It's entirely optional."

"I know which option I'll take."

His smile seemed to slide under Ash's skin and leave an itching, crawling feeling. "Don't be so sure."

"Just let me do the challenge."

"Don't you want the facts?"

"Fine." He grit his teeth. "Give me the facts."

Misty's hand tugged on his. "Ash, he's just going to freak you out!"

"Getting the facts can't hurt, Mist."

"Wanna bet?" she muttered.

"But this an absolute masterpiece!" he protested. "You have to let me tell you about it, about how amazing it is! And, after all, who better to tell then the one it's intended for?"

"Then tell me."

"You're going to burn, Ash. You're going to leave someone behind to die. You're going to feel the pain of death time and time again. And you're going to kill something real. Not a Gary doll that will come back to life, but a being with thoughts and emotions and is just as human as you or me." He grinned. "Want to duck out now?"

"After all that hard work you put it?" Ash condescended. "I wouldn't dream of taking that pleasure from you."

He changed the topic swiftly, his cat eyes focusing on her green. "Aren't you going to kiss him goodbye, Misty, or are you going to kiss Brock instead? Might as well. It's the last time you're going to kiss anyone. Or maybe you should get yourself a little impure. That's what these boys are all concerned with, what _everyone _cares about, so you might as well just give it to them. Just take off all your clothes and lay down, like you wish you did for Aiden."

Her voice was even, but her grip on Ash's hand had only gotten tighter. "You saw me hug Brock, didn't you?"

"I see everything."

"Friends hug, you know."

"I don't care who you hug, you whore!" he shouted, his calm demeanor breaking.

"Don't use that word, Hyacinth," she whispered darkly.

His eyes widened and he barreled forward, stopping an inch form her face. "Who taught you that?"

"Oh, I've known that word for ages. My mom loved flowers, and she taught my sisters and me all of these fancy flower named. Hyacinths were a beautiful purple flower, named after a Greek hero. I imagine being a chosen one is pretty similar to being a Greek hero, isn't it?"

"How do you know that?"

"It's a lovely name, Hyacinth."

Ash leaned down. "Misty, we have to save Dawn."

"She can wait. She's fine." Her eyes narrowed on the man's, seething. "I know exactly who he is. He's Hyacinth. I know who he is, I know why he's doing it, and I'm helping certain people not die right now."

"And Dawn is fine?"

"She's not being tortured, if that's what you mean. He's not mad at her. He's mad at us. Aside from everything else he was already mad, he's mad at us because you and I were supposed to be kissing and I hugged Brock, and he can't separate something that's friendly and something that's romantic." She stared. "For the life of me, I don't know why you care so much. Not beyond the fact that you think I shouldn't be with Brock."

"Why would I care who you hug?"

"Because you wanted me to be with Ash. You want me to fall madly in love with him so you can take it all away. You already told me that. But this can't just be that. You can't get this mad just because I hugged Brock? This has to be something personal. Isn't that right, Hyacinth?"

"Stop calling me that, or I'll kill her."

"Oh, no you won't." She laughed.

"A dead friend isn't a good prize," Brock agreed.

And his presence returned to its casual state. He leaned away from Misty, shrugging his shoulders as if it really didn't matter. "Last chance to kiss your boyfriend goodbye."

"Ash isn't going anywhere."

"Here comes the gauntlet," he sighed, turning back to Ash. His smile stretched wide and his appearance changed, seeming to morph as he watched. His skin stretched thin over his skull, eyes bulging from their sockets and his hair thinned, making his teeth constantly bared as he spoke. "In case you got lucky the first time around, we'll try it all over again. You did it all once, Ash. Do it again for me. Prove you're a hero. Let me take out those little flaws that made it so easy the first time, and see if you still can."

"I'm not proving anything to you," he spat. "I'm here to save my friends, and that's it. Once I save them, I never want to see you again."

"Why not? Aren't you having fun?"

Ash didn't answer. Instead, he cast a glare the star haired man's way, then stepped forward. In response, his friends seemed to fade away, a wall of solid, brown rock in his way. And, in front, was a black pool. It smelled disgusting, like rotting flesh and a sewer mixed into a vat. He gagged at the first smell of it, but braved it all. Ash's eyes shut tight and he jumped forward, descending into the warm pool of disease until he was able to seize the rock.

This was scratchy, rough rock that gave him grip. It made it easy for his shoes to grip and he climbed. Each rock was solid under his hands, and soon he forgot to test each step. It was easy. A no tricks climb, which he had done plenty of times before. And then a rock gave out under his foot. He yelped and clawed at the wall for the nearest handhold, his nails breaking and fingers ripping to ribbons, so that when he managed to hold on his hands screamed for mercy, and he had to take a moment to push away the pain. He tried not to look at his hands or feel the slow trail of blood down his wrist, gathering with sweat. Then he climbed, hands raw and each grip making them pound with pan. He swallowed his yelps and screams until he hauled himself to the top, plunging his hands into the cool wetness of his mouth and sucking away the pain until his mouth filled up with coppery blood.

He had the morbid hope that Gary would be back and he could take a branch to his head once again, but looking around gave him only his kitchen from home. He jumped up and ran to the sink, hands slipping on the faucet handles from the blood and sweat and spit, then he let them hover under the chilled water, rinsing away the dirt and numbing them with its ice. His head rolled back from the comforting relief and he moaned, letting his hands twitch and spasm.

"Ashy?" a voice asked behind him. He couldn't be bothered to turn around. "Oh, Ash! You're back! I missed you! Even if you did track gravel all over the house." There was a long, drawn out sigh. "I'll have to punish you for that."

He turned and there was his mother (or her clone, at the very least) hands on her hips and half smiling at him. His heart summersaulted in his chest, and he reminded himself that this was her clone, that bringing his mother in was not part of the deal. No matter how similar, how exact in every detail she might have been, she was not Delia Ketchum. No, not even when she hugged him and_ oh mew she smells like cinnamon like home _and called him "her baby" so warmly his eyes stung hot with tears. She was not his mother. She couldn't be. It wasn't part of the deal.

"But you have taken a long time and you did get my house dirty." She said, gently pushing him away. "You know how much I love you honey, but I really need to punish you."

"What?"

She pulled a revolver from under her apron, the light glinting off the metal warm from her hand. With a cry of "shit!" Ash grabbed the table and yanked it on its side, using it as a shield as his mother fired off six shots. He only peaked when he heard the cartridge clatter to the floor, then looked up to see her slowly clipping another one in, shaking her head dismally. Her eyes met his and she scowled, not murderously, but exactly as if he had been an unruly child.

"I love you, Ash, but you've been very bad lately." She pointed the gun once more. "What kind of mother would I be if I just let you roam around all unwatched? No better than Brock's mother!" Another two shots, and Ash cowered behind the table. "Look how he turned out! The pervert."

"I can't kill my mother," he whispered, looking at the floor. "She's mom."

"And Misty? I don't think she had much better. Have you seen how she dresses?" She kicked the table aside, leveling her gun at him. "Honestly, Ashy, can't you make Mommy happy and choose better friends?"

He slammed her wrist, the gun firing and a bullet scraping along his side. The place felt like he had been cut by a scalding knife, but he had more to do. He wrestled the gun from her, throwing it across the floor. Then he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides. This clone of his mother was surprisingly strong. It took more of his strength than he ever would have guessed to keep her steady.

"Ash Ketchum, did you just hit you mother?" she gasped.

His jaw dropped and his cried, dismayed, "You tried to shoot me!"

"That's not an excuse. You let me go this instant!"

"Are you going to shoot me?"

"Mommy has to punish her child," she snarled back, and slammed him hard in the groin, her knee packing enough power to make him let her go and stumble back a pace. But not enough to let her get the gun, he yanked her arm and whipped her back, dragging her into the pantry and locked the door to keep her in.

She let out a sobbing wail that sounded so much like his mother he actually paused at the door. But he told himself she was not his mother and as he stepped away. Then her wail turned into an animalistic shriek that took away his guilt and let him finally step away and push out the back door.

He had expected his backyard, though as the ground vanished beneath him and he sunk into the chilly waters, he couldn't help but wonder why he ever thought it would be. He also wondered why so many challenges involved him swimming in something uncomfortable. Then he decided that cold water was better than pinching bugs or some untold muck that was probably still coursing through his system and poisoning him in every moment. At least this was only water, albeit water that seemed to lead down into a bottomless pit of despair.

"Fifteen meters," the star haired man said, standing in a tug boat and wearing the dumbest looking white captain's hat that Ash had ever seen.

And, for some reason, he felt the urge to share this fact and quite proudly asked, "Why the hell would you ever wear that hat?"

"I'm a captain," he sniffed.

"You look retarded."

"I look like a captain."

"Can we go back in time so I can forget we're related?"

"It's fifteen meters down," he snapped. "At the bottom, you'll find a key."

He treaded water absently, looking up at the sky. "Do you have a fetish for keys?"

"You might not need it."

That got his attention. "What?"

"You might not need it." The man shrugged. "You could spend hours looking for the key, and in the end find out you don't need it. Of course, if you do, and you don't have it, you'll have to work your way back here and then go all the way to the final challenge again. That's three times total. But, then again, all the time you waste searching."

"A smart person could figure this out, right?"

"Maybe." He shrugged.

Ash glared. "I hate being stupid."

"In my time you'd be celebrated."

And, hearing the bitterness in his voice, Ash grinned. "Jealousy looks lovely on you."

His lips curled in a snarl and he vanished, the ocean beginning to churn and clouds bubbling in above. The ocean began to toss the boy back and forward, making the world spin before him. He kicked up, gathering as much breath as he could then dived, thanking the world for the waters being so crystal clear. He wasn't even able to reach the bottom and after kicking he found himself pounding to the surface and gasping in the air, filling his lungs so they made his chest inflate wide and burn.

Then he dived again, pounding his legs and arms until his fingers brushed the sand, and he searched desperately for the key. He took breaks, long ones, resting on the beach until his breath came back, then he dived back in and worked until his muscles tired again.

When he found the key, hours had passed, and the cool sand of the bottom was replaced by smoldering heat that made him shiver from the sudden transition, suddenly realizing the cold he had been in for so long before. He was barely able to steady his hands enough to slide they key inside his pocket, and it took him a few minutes to get back to room temperature.

Molten rock again, red and boiling with big bubbles that popped and splattered farther than he thought the sluggish liquid could. Heat radiated so sharply all the room seemed to shiver, especially off the long, solid steel bar that stretched just above his head and across the pit. It wasn't red, which didn't make sense. It shouldn't have been that close to the heat and not changed color. To think of it, he shoulder have been able to get as close as he did. He shook his head a bit reminding himself that Max's challenge had been based off of a book and that the star haired man's world wasn't always as realistic as it appeared on first glance.

"Where's May's challenge?" Ash asked slowly. "Shouldn't one of my friends be tortured for trying to be happy about now?"

"It can be arranged!" The man sat on the bar, hands sizzling like meat in a pan as they gripped it. "But here I thought we were going to focus on you. If you really want me to torture your friends a little more, it's no skin off my back. Though I never took you for a sadist, Ash. Masochist maybe."

"If my hands are cooked I can't exactly work them. Basic biology. Chemistry. Something you don't understand because I didn't notice last time, but lava is supposed to be hotter than this, and that bar should be melted or red or something like that."

"Want it hotter?" he snickered.

"I want to be able to win!" Ash snapped. "If my hands are made out of breakfast sausage I can't cross it! I can't make my hands work because all of the nerves will be roasted!

He laughed outright now, taking too much joy in his plan. "All you have to do is stand the pain. Everything else will work just the way it's supposed to."

"And what if one of those bubbles pop on me?"

He grinned. "Oops."

So he was gone, and Ash reached up to wrap his fingers around it, the already sore hands flashing with pain that made him scream and yank away, cuddling it to his chest as the burn settled into the flesh. He wished he had gloves with fingers, to save the tips from the pain. Her thought about using his pants to slide across, or even walking across the bar, but his dangling body would get burn for sure, and he could ask he pathetic balancing skills. There was no rope, no pokémon, no anything to grab. Nothing but the bar. Nothing but scorched hands. As much as he dreaded it, he took the bar and gritted his teeth to the max as he pulled himself across. He felt like he was roasting, with the heat at his back so hot he was sure it would blister. Every move, bend of the arm sent another flash of heat, and the pain in his hands and legs was enough to make the world swim in and out focus.

When he had made it to the other side, he collapsed on the stone and sobbed, not because he was relieved it was over, but because every part of him continued to ache as badly as before. Nothing was healing, nothing was vanishing, and soon the star haired man stood above him with a cruel smile.

"Are you alright?"

Ash's eyes closed and he screamed in response, his body arching off the stone and twitching in the air.

"Calm down. You're alive."

Then the tears again, and when the man grabbed his shoulder in a soft, almost comforting way, he gasped for breath at the pain.

"Oh, Ash, I know it hurts. You should have been cooked alive, I know." Each hot word on his ear sent a little spasm of fire down his spine. "But I save you. Aren't I nice? Keeping you alive so you can complete the challenge and saved your friend." He giggled. "You know, you dropped that key on your way over."

The world swam in front of his eyes, dimming around the edges, but the star haired man seemed to haul at his consciousness and bring him back snarling, "Don't faint! You still have Dawn to save!"

"No more," he croaked.

"Do you give up?"

Ash said nothing. He arched again and he screamed until all his breath was gone. When he opened his eyes, the man was gone and a small pool of water waited for him. He rolled into it and nearly drowned, unwilling to come up as it cooled the sting from his burns. The tightness in his lungs was bliss after that. He came up for breath only briefly, poking his nose up and sucking in all the air he could hold Then he vanished again, hiding under until the ache was finally enough to bear. Then he pulled himself back out and let his head loll to the side, just briefly, before he set off.

And there was the final challenge.

Two Dawn's. One in a cage, and one simply standing in the midst of it all.

"What's going on?" Ash asked, nervously eyeing the two. "Who's Dawn?"

They smiled identical smiles and chimed, "I am," in voices so similar, with such familiar expression, it sounded like she spoke in surround sound rather than two separate people. Which panicked him so much he began shouting questions and stumbling back: Who are you? (I'm Dawn!) Who's real? (I am!) Who's lying? (She is!) until he stepped back and calmed himself, letting any tension he had slide from his shoulders so he could try and pick out the differences.

"It's an old riddle, you know. It's starting right about…now." The man smiled, sitting between the two girls. "The twist here is that one of them is real and one of them isn't. I made one of them to be exactly like the real Dawn. If you find the right one, you go home. Your friends go home. You earn your hero reputation."

"No more games?" Ash accused.

"No more games," he promised. "Just pick the right one."

"What if I pick the wrong one?"

"She'll kill you."

"How?"

"I hope she'll push you off the cliff. Maybe pound you into dust. I set her on random so it could be anything."

"Old age?"

"Good try."

Ash looked back and forth, and he thought, because he knew this riddle. One of them always lied, and one of them always told the truth. He had seen it a hundred times before, and Misty had pulled it out on him often enough because he could never remember the right question to ask to get the answer. But he didn't need it this time, because he just needed to ask something the star haired man didn't know, that only Dawn could tell him.

"How old are you?"

"Ten!" The one shouted from the cage, her knuckles whitening as her hands fists in her shirt. "Ten!"

"Nine," whispered the other, looking ashamed. "I lied to enter contests and get my pokémon. I just couldn't wait any longer."

"I'm ten!" the other shrieked, shaking the bars. She pulled at her shirt and ripped at her hair and screamed so loud it made his ears ring. "Ash! She lies! I'm ten! Ash, please!"

Relieved, Ash walked to the one without a cage. "Dawn, it's you."

"I'm so happy you're here!" she gasped, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back and the other Dawn screamed, thrashing her head and banging her hands against the bars so viciously Ash could already see the broken bones and bruises that would come from it. "I knew you'd come and save me! I knew you would!"

"I just had to ask something only Dawn could know!" he said proudly. "You're the real Dawn. And you're saved."

And when she reached for her pocket, yanking out something lightning fast, he twisted it and dove it into her stomach instead, twisting it deeply. She gawked at him in surprise and shock, and though her eyes were blue his looked icier than hers could ever be as he gripped that handle harder and slid it from her stomach. "I needed something for the lock."

"Ash, how could you?" she gasped, hands pressing at the wound. "I'm real."

"Liar!" he shouted, panic rising. "You can't be!"

The Dawn in her cage rocked back and forth, crying desperately, holding her wounded hands out in front of her. "I'm not real. I'm not real."

"Yes, you are." And then he screamed it, charging up to the cage. "You're Dawn! You're the right Dawn!"

He slammed the knife into the lock and wiggled it, stabbed it again and again until the door finally yielded to his tugs and he could run in. He let her fall into his arms, let her sob and bury her head in his shirt and her fists in his back though he knew how horribly it all must have hurt her. He kissed her temples softly, just once, feeling a tear or two roll down his face and whispered, "You're the right Dawn."

"She didn't know she wasn't real," the star man breathed, still standing where he had introduced the challenge. He was back to his normal looking self, but his eyes were wide and horrified, seeming to hold a new kind of respect for the teenager.

"What?"

"She didn't know she wasn't real." He blinked. "I was trying to trick you. Your Dawn lied. My Dawn told the truth. And you went and you killed her."

"But she wasn't real!"

"She had all of Dawn's memories, her feelings, her goals. She was unequivocally…her. And you stabbed her in the stomach. What a terrible way to die." He glanced over. "What a terrible way to be dying. She's not gone yet. She's still in pain, the poor thing."

"That's not fair!" he shouted, and Dawn's tears were heavier on his shoulder. "She wasn't real!"

"I lost, Ash," the star haired man whispered, and he actually took a step back, holding his hands up in his surrender. "You won your friends back."

"I won," he hissed. "That's the mewdamned end of it!"

"You didn't win." He pausing. "That wasn't a punching bag. That girl was real, and you killed her. That's not heroic at all."

"She wasn't real!" he screamed, but his cheeks felt damp, and his hands were still covered in a red that had made the knife handle slippery.

And then…

Then there was the lab.

And then there was the voices.

And then there was reality.

**

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**

I hope you enjoyed it! It sounds a little different at the end, I know, but I liked it being choppier.

I'm sorry it took so long! But there was so much editing and I really just put so much work into this so I could finally be satisfied. The last of the mysteries will be unveiled in the next couple of chapters, and then Ash and company can finally kick the star haired man's ass!


	13. A Hero's Welcome

I'm sorry if this sucks. I tried super, super hard. I really did. *groans* This was freaking impossible! Hardest thing I've ever done.

Oh, and...**EXPOSITION**. A lot. Very obviously. I did not try to hide it.

* * *

**A Hero's Welcome**

The lab was hot, smothering in its scent of sterilized air and starched sheets. He tried to sit up and his mind rebelled at the concept, making his vision go dark around the edges and feeling so entirely wrong that he fell back and clutched his pillow. Meanwhile, he body and brain worked around the subject, trying to ground him in the new world. Smell and sight came first, then, slowly and muffled, came sound. There was calling and footsteps and frantic words. He saw faces and bodies, mostly Professor Oak and Gary, but May and Max and even Dawn rushing around as well, telling him that he was home, that everything was going to be okay.

"What?" he asked, sitting up slowly. "Where?"

"You were hit by a psychic attack," May explained, rubbing his hand in two of hers. "You got banged up real bad, we all got banged up real bad, and the attack put it in our heads that…that is was that man."

"It was," he croaked weakly. "It hap-"

"Oh, Ash, you did save us." She looked like she wanted to hug him, shifting and leaning forward, before settling back. "That easily could have killed us. It was your will to fight that saved us, all of us. If you hadn't fought it'd be easy for us to just lose it. To go insane or have blood vessels pop from the stress."

"It had to be real," he argued furiously. "It had to-"

"It's not!" May cried. "And you saved us, you still saved us! Isn't that enough? Do you want that man to be real? Do you want him to come after us again?" Her hands were tight on his, choking the blood from them. "Ash, you saved us from a psychic attack, that's all, but you still did a great job."

He sat up and shouted at her, so loudly the room stopped to stare at him, "If he's not real, then why are you so scared?"

"Because you're yelling at me!"

"I just started! You've been scared a lot longer!" he bellowed, because it all seemed like a lie and it seemed very important.

And then it didn't.

Because people were swarming over Brock like he was a dead man. And Brock wasn't moving. Not a twitch of the hand of a blink of an eye and, if he was breathing, it was so slow and shallow that Ash couldn't see it. There was a heart monitor beating much too slow, and the realization that Brock was almost dead hit him so hard that he rolled over in bed and felt his stomach heave and felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes.

"You don't need to worry about him," May insisted, rubbing his back as her younger brother rushed over with a trash can. "Brock is fine. He's having some trouble, that's all. He's in a coma, but not a bad one. Just a little one. He'll wake up soon and he'll be back to normal."

Ash groaned, clutching the side of his trash can. "He's dead."

"He's fine! He's not the one you need to worry about!" she gasped and covered her mouth, as if unable to believe she let the words slip.

And, before he could ask, he heard it. One of those murmuring, frantic voices was Misty's, and now she screamed. Two beds over from Ash she kicked and screamed and wailed, thrashing on the bed as if she was having a seizure. "Don't touch me!" she cried. "Don't even! He's still out there, so why are you worrying about me?" And she bit and clawed at those who tried to subdue her, pushing needles away so that glass shattered on the floor.

"She'll be alright," May said, grabbing onto his hand and rubbing his back just a little too roughly. "She's just having problems."

"What's wrong?" he shouted again, and Misty let out a keening wail.

"Ash! Ash, you know it too! Don't let them drug me, Ash!" she sobbed, her face red and blotchy as she pushed another arm away. "I can't sleep when he's coming, Ash, please! Make them stop!"

He tried. As hard as he could, he struggled to sit up and get to her, but he could do little more than twitch and spit out the bile that snuck up into his mouth. So, hating being helpless, he watched his friends pin her to the bed, stretch out her arm and plunge the needle in, listening to her as her screaming became whimpers and her punches become gently waving arms as the drugs dragged her under, and left her limp on the bed.

"What's wrong?" he whispered again.

"She can't tell what's real." May lowered her head. "But you still saved her, kept her alive. You saved all of us."

"That's it?" he snapped. "Nothing else to add?"

"Ash, you did amazing. You should be proud."

He glared. "I was looking for a thank you."

She blinked, sitting up straighter. "What do you mean?"

"I saved your life and you won't even say thank you! You don't even think of it!" he shouted. "Misty is the only one who's ever said it when she wasn't asked and you drugged her! She's the only one who knows what's going on, and you drugged her!"

He felt a prick in his arm, and looked sharply at the Professor, the man unable to meet his eyes as some clear liquid was shot into Ash's bloodstream. He glared at the old man, all the way until the sleep overwhelmed him and hissed, "You're a fucking _moron_."

**

* * *

**

The next time he awoke, they were alone. What light came through the windows was the star and the moon was new and black in the sky. Brock was breathing steadily now, as was Gary, their guard, who snored by the door. Ash quietly considered marching up to the brunette and punching him in the face for allowing any of this to happen, before he realized he was more or less alone, and that he was certainly quiet enough to sneak by Gary and see how damaged his friends really were.

Brock was closest, so he carefully eased out of bed and crept over to him, feeling his pulse. The machine may have called him stable, but Ash didn't trust it. Once that was settled and his heart rate seemed normal, Ash watched his breathing, and did a quick once over for bruises and broken bones and cuts and scrapes. Finding few, he sat back and looked to see what they had hooked him up to, and eyed the machine that showed his brain as still active.

Then came Misty, where he didn't quite follow the same procedure. Instead, he gave into his nerves and his hormones and slid into the bed with her, hugging her waist and feeling the warm comfortable rush that came from her. She fit so perfectly, as stupid as it sounded, and she smelled like salt water. She always smelled like the ocean, like her pool, no matter how much she tried to scrub it away, and he was thankful for that. That let him know that it really was her.

She sighed pushing her back against him, more like she was trying to get closer than push him away. "Hands," she warned lightly.

"I saved your life and I'm not even allowed to feel you up?" He chuckled softly. "But that's the only reason I became a hero, all the hot girls!"

"Mmm, why is that plural?" she asked.

"You're one of many, many hot girls," he teased.

Her hand slid into his as she rolled over, their scars rubbing together as she smiled up at him. "But I'm the only one who made a mark. Tell that to those hot girls."

He rested his forehead on hers. "Don't let them drug you again."

"I'll try, but I'm not all back yet."

"You seem fine to me."

She smiled softly, cuddling in deeper. "Because you're here. I know you believe me, that both of the worlds are real, so I don't have to go crazy to tell you. Unlike everyone else in here who's too scared to admit it, you know he's still out there."

"They said it was a psychic attack."

"I told you they'd say it was a dream." She clutched his hands tighter, her mouth set in a grim line as she forced off the impulses to scream how real it was. "But you have proof, because they can't explain this scar – how we have it, how it matched up. Hyacinth was prideful, and that's how we'll get him."

"Hyacinth is still coming."

She nodded solemnly. "_Civil blood makes civil hands unclean._"

"What's that from?"

"_Romeo and Juliet_, you idiot. _Two houses both alike in dignity/in fair Verona where we lay our scene./From ancient grudge break to new mutiny/ where civil blood makes civil hands unclean._" She smirked up at him. "It's the opening of the play. How many times have I told you to read a book already?"

"Why are you quoting that?" He teased, "Feeling romantic?"

"I'm thinking about the ending."

He rolled his eyes. "We're not dumb enough to die for each other."

"It's because of the misunderstanding, not their love. It's all comes down to a simple miscommunication." She swallowed thickly, glaring down at her hands.

"We won't die."

"Civil blood. That polite bastard!" she growled, then buried her head into his chest, letting a few tears trickle out before she could calm herself enough to pull away and whisper, "Thank you."

He shrugged. "I don't mind the wet shirt."

"No." She shook her head. "For Dawn you…you went through all of that. To save us. You could have said no. You could have left. But you stayed and you suffered through all of that for us."

He kissed her, gently tipping up her chin and barely tapping their lips together before letting her go with a happy, "Thank you."

"For saying thank you?"

"Uh-huh."

She snorted. "You're so weird."

"No comment on the kiss?" he said, clearly disappointed that his kissing skill might have been subpar.

"We made a bet."

"Can we French?"

"No, we made a bet," she scolded. "You did _not_ come back without a scratch."

"You're no fun."

"There's an apocalypse, you know."

"All the more reason to lose my virginity," he quipped.

She turned again, so her back was to his front, and tugged his arms more comfortably around her. "You'll get spooning and you'll be happy for it."

"Way ahead of you," he sighed, and happily buried his face into her back.

**

* * *

**

The next day brought a relatively normal Misty. She still shouted if people came too close and slapped at outstretched arms. They let her bathe on her own, and, dripping wet and towel clad, they let her pick at cereal, bread and cheese. She wasn't allowed to see Ash, in case she tried to convince him that the world they left was real, which ended with her hiding under the covers and crying as they led Ash away. But she kept quiet, because they would never let her see him if she continued panicking the way she had been.

"How are you?" Gary asked, flashing an annoyingly bright light into her eyes.

She didn't know what he was testing for. She had proven time and time again that she was clearly lucid, and that she was only confused about what world was real and what world was fake, but he was the one that gave the okay on things, him and the older Oak. But the Professor spent much more time monitoring Brock and ensuring that he would turn out alright, and Gary was left to tend to her with his much more meager medical experience and bedside manner.

"If I can see Ash," she said steadily through gritted teeth, "I'll be fine."

"You know you can't."

"Actually, I know I can." Her eyes narrowed now that he had lowered his light, and now had her follow his finger with her eyes. "I know you won't let me, because it's not him. Ash wants to see me and we both want to see Brock. However, we can't see Brock, because he is in a coma." She glared. "That's what _can't_ means. I _can _see Ash. I'm just not _allowed _to see Ash."

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "You were in there longer than anyone else."

"Is that the excuse you've come up with?"

"So far, it's our only logical conclusion," Gary said stiffly. "Aside from…aside from something outlandish."

"_When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth_," Misty said firmly. "Do you know what that's from?"

"No. What?"

"It's from a Sherlock Holmes book. I've never read it, and neither has Ash, and neither has Brock, and I bet if you ask around, no one else will have either, because that little piece of knowledge didn't come from me. It came from _him_. Along with several other things that I've never done, never read. I can recite Homer's works, Gary. If you go ask Ash, I bet you anything he can do the same." She glared. "Gary, he's been alive for longer than you can imagine, and he's still out there. He's still strong and he's still mad and you're wasting time shining a light into my eyes."

"And you think he's coming back?" he asked.

"I know he is."

"Prove it was real, Misty."

"When someone has a dream under a psychic attack, the wounds they have in the real world are explained in the dream. You don't get a wound in the dream and come out with it in real life." She held up her palm. "Gary, we haven't seen each other in months. Ash has this exact scar, from my badge on his hand. When we hold hands they match. You could say that it somehow happened to me, I always carry my badge. Ash doesn't. How could he get this burn on his palm, and only there if it wasn't from that man?"

"There are plenty of ways."

"Mine is more probable than anything you're about to say," she retorted. "And you _know_ it."

"If it was anyone other than Ash I'd disagree," he muttered. He looked at her from under his bangs, sighing. "But you seem to have regained your senses."

"So you'll let me see him?"

"I'm letting Ash see you," he retorted.

"What's the difference?"

"It's not for you that way; it's for him."

She grinned. "Aw, are you trying to be nice to your old rival?"

"I don't like owing my life to him, so here's my payback. I lie for you and for him, you two can get together and discuss whatever you need to discuss or have some hot, kinky sex, and Ash and I will walk away even. You tell him that. I don't owe him a damn thing after this." He crossed his arms. "And if he asks me to do anything else in all of this, we're back to him owing me."

She smirked. "You know, he really would appreciate it if you went up and just said thank you, you big softie."

"And he'd appreciate it if you didn't make him look short when you wear high heels, Amazon," he shot back, ruffling her hair.

She caught his hand. "Gary, if he…if he asks you about doing something, something romantic with him and me…"

He smirked. "Tell him you've been waiting since you were ten?"

"Tell him it'd be smart to wait, until this is over. Tell him to ask me then, okay?"

"No."

She put her hands on her hips with a huff. "And why not, you prick?"

"You're doing it to keep you and Ash safe, so he won't try and go after the stupid love interest cliché, but it won't work." Gary shrugged. "The guy's psychic, Red. Well, if the guy's real he's definitely a psychic. He already knows-"

Professor Oak's voice was patient, but it boomed, crossing over from his room to theirs with a surprising clarity. _"Ash, it was a dream."_

_"It wasn't a dream!" _Ash's scream carried as well, but it was nothing like the professor's. His voice was high and it squeaked and the panic in it made both of them cringe.

Gary stood, eyeing the girl. "Alright. Sounds like Ashy-boy is up. Let's head on over and see if we can stop his freak out, shall we?"

And so they did, witnessing Ash confronting both the Professor and his mother.

She was rubbing his hand, trying her best to comfort him. "I know it seems real, but it was a pokemon attack – a psychic. That's all. You've been out for a couple of days, but you're fine now, all of you."

"The how did I get this?" he shouted, holding out his palm and the raindrop scar on it. "That's the Cerulean badge, and I don't carry that with me! And it's healed! How could it have healed so quickly if I didn't have it just the other day? It looks like it's been there years!"

Gary blinked at her. "You know, you could have just burned it into his. It probably would have been enough."

"I don't like to do things halfway."

He smirked. "You couldn't think of a way to do it without shaking his hand, could you?"

She crossed her arms, red creeping up her cheeks. "I stand by my story."

The black haired boy grinned leaping from the bed and slamming into her arms. She was surprised to find herself twirling, just for a moment, before he set her down and just held her, with her clinging back to him just as fiercely. She was even more surprised to feel tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. But Ash was back – really back – he wasn't there for a nighttime visit and all back in his right mind, and he was physical, this time. No more dreams, no more illusions, just a boy who smelled like sweat and forests, and whose heart pounded so fiercely she could feel it on her skin when she leaned into him. Judging by the way he gripped her and twitched his fingers on her skin, she guessed he felt the same way, and held on until he was the one to let go.

"You're better."

"Of course," she said, pulling away a little further. "You didn't really think I'd let something stupid like that keep me down, did you? You should know by now that I'm better than that."

He chuckled and leaned closer. "I know that you're a better liar. What I don't know is how you got Gary to go along with it." She stiffened. "What? I can tell you're sick. You looked like you wanted to rip my mom's throat of for telling me it wasn't real."

"Sorry," she murmured. "I don't mean it."

"Oh, yes you do. That's the problem. But Brock's not awake yet, so what do you want to do in the meantime? I don't want to go through all of that without him." He grinned, flicking her nose. "So, are you gonna wait for him to wake up, or do I have to use my winnings to shut you up again?"

"I'll wait, but what do you intend to do until then?" She sighed, glancing over her shoulder. "Your mom is probably cooking something-"

When she looked back, he kissed her again, another peck. "Like I said last night, there's an apocalypse coming up."

"And like I said last night, you'll get spooning and you'll like it." She flicked his forehead, though her toes were curling in her shoes and she was getting very sick of the brief touches. "So, that's a no to your activity. As for what we should really do, I have to admit that eating something warm would be great, especially if it was mooing yesterday."

"Mom's making pork."

"Mmm," she hummed, tugging him out with her. "We're going to each so much good-"

"I shouldn't have been so prideful," he interrupted icily, and neither turned around for fear of what they would see. "You won that round, the first _two_ rounds. I give you credit, because you're the first one to make it to round three. You're the first one to wake up and realize I'm still out there to come after. Do you know why?"

"Because I'm the best," Ash muttered.

"Because I've gotten bored, Ash. Because forever is a very, very long time to be alive, and I'm just so sick of it all." His breath was hot on the back of their neck's, and Ash was almost sure if he turned around he could probably land a good hit or two before Hyacinth managed to get his revenge. "I want to play on even ground. I'll find out just how strong I am. If I lose, I'll get to die. And if I win? Can you guess what will happen when I win?"

"You'll take over the world," he said flatly.

"I'll destroy it. Not the planet, can't do that, but everything that thinks. And then I'll get to sleep, Ash. I'll put a sword through my stomach and I'll go to sleep in silence. So you better hope you win, Ash."

He hissed, "And where are we going to play?"

"To fight, Ash. I'm not playing anymore. I'm ready to end this."

"Why the sudden change?"

"Unlike the others, you read the book. How many years and you're the first ones who bothers to sit down and read the book? Amazing. And that it was a girl who read it, a lovely girl with a hot temper and a caring heart, and so much blood on her hands." His fingers were soft, resting against the back of her neck and making her clench her teeth to hold back a shiver. "If I win, you'll be the last I kill."

"Go home, Hyancinth," she whispered.

"I'm in Pallet, Misty," he retorted. "I am home."

And Brock awoke with a scream.

Ash spun around, teeth bared in a hiss. "What'd you do to him?"

"I haven't touched him," the man said again, and Ash did his best to pinpoint where the voice came from so he could finally have the satisfaction of ripping into him.

"Liar!" he snapped. "What did you do?"

"Ash, let it go," Misty said, tugging on his elbow. She dragged him back towards Brock's room, people rushing by them as they rushed to tend to the oldest boy. "Hyacinth isn't worth the fight right now. We have to make sure Brock's okay. We have to make sure he knows what's going on."

"Fine, just let me take out this jerk first."

"Ash, you can't, she shouted, spinning him to face her. "And why are you so eager to kill him anyway? We've been through worse than this and you haven't killed a single person. Why are you going to sink to his level, Ash?"

He hesitated. "Did you hear what he said? When I saved Dawn?"

"No, but it can't be worse than anything he's already done." She squeezed his hands. "They're words, Ash, that's it. They don't change what happened. It doesn't matter who or what he threatens, alright? We're going to fight him in our world and we'll have the home field advantage."

"You'd be surprised what words can do," he mumbled. "Misty, what the hell is he?"

"You wanted to talk about it with Brock, remember?"

"Yeah," he agreed and abruptly strode past her, into the room where people swarmed over Brock, yanking out wires and calming him down as he adjusted to his old world. Surprisingly, no one was bringing a shot full of drugs to put him to sleep, and Ash half wanted to yell at them for doing it to him and Misty. But Brock was calming fast. Good, stable Brock getting right into the swing of things with a few easy breaths, asking for water in his ever steady voice and chugging as much as he could manage.

"Brock?" Misty whispered.

"Hey, Misty," he said, putting the now empty bottle aside. "You haven't been giving these guys too much trouble, right?"

"Thank Moltres," she breathed, and darted to his side, stopping at the edge when she realized a flying tackle, might not have been the best thing to do in his situation. She settled for grabbing his hand. "Tell me you're alright."

"Just a headache," he said, smiling. "And I can handle a hug, Misty. But I never knew you were such a softie."

"Shut up! You were unconscious for two days, you idiot. I think I'm allowed to worry a little."

He patted her head. "Well, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about anything. Brock the rock can take more than a psychic hit."

"Brock-o, never call yourself that again," Ash chuckled. "You're all patched up? Ready for a pokémon battle? Because my boulder badge is getting pretty rusty."

"Shouldn't you be the one hugging me while Misty stands back and makes jokes?" Brock taunted, "Or was that a dream, too?"

"I'm just waiting for Misty to move so I can have my turn."

"Bet he's trying not to cry," the redhead agreed. "You know how he gets weepy when all this stuff happens. At least I have the courtesy to act calm and keep all my tears where they belong."

"I don't cry _that _much."

She rolled her eyes and backed away. "He's all yours, Ash. Try not to break him."

He stepped forward, throwing his arms around Brock in a massive hug. "I swear, Brock, I was so sure you were going to die."

"Thanks for the confidence, Ash."

"You scared me, man. I mean, you were out for two days."

"I was crazy!" Misty snapped. "Where the hell is my concern?"

Ash waved her away. "That's nothing new."

"You _jerk_."

"Hey, Mom, can you leave us alone for a while?"

"Oh, Ash, I don't think-"

"It's fine, Mrs. K. I cleared them," Gary said, sweeping the adults from the room. He only paused to give Ash a kick in his ankle and snarl, "We are _even_, Ketchum."

And with them shuffled out of the room, Ash immediately turned to the redhead, and prodded, "Why's he obsessed with you, Mist?"

She stood up slowly, clicking the lock. "Ash Ketchum, what child doesn't want a mother?"

"I'm sorry," Ash said awkwardly, watching her as she sauntered back to Brock's bedside, pulling up another chair for her to sit on. "That was way too creepy for me to understand. The thousand year old guy wants you to be his mother. You, the girl who refuses to hold babies because she's afraid she'll squeeze them too hard and their heads will pop off like dandelions."

She glared. "You know what? I could be a good mother if I wanted to, so why don't you shut up?"

"Misty you know I think you're great. You're strong and smart and a great pokémon trainer. You're sweet when you want to be and it's not like you beat up kids, but there isn't a human being under seven years old who chooses to hang out with you, or you with them." He squeezed her shoulder. "I mean, you made a four year old cry because he said 'we was' and you called him an idiot and corrected his grammar."

"Are we done making fun of my mothering skills?" she pouted, putting her hands on her hips.

"I wouldn't let you babysit my siblings, Misty," Brock added. "Sorry, but the idea of you with little kids makes me think they'd all need years and years of expensive therapy."

She clicked her tongue lightly, eyes narrowing. "Well, the kid who's lived thousands and thousands of years and is a psychic super genius think that I would make a great mom and that's why he's so obsessed with me. And, since it's never happened with any other girl that ended up with the Chosen One, I clearly have special mothering skills that you two are just way too stupid to see, so take that."

Ash beamed. "Ends up, like, romantically?"

"Ash Ketchum, I swear to all that is good in this world-"

"Are you romantically interested in me, Mist?"

"Don't call me that and-"

"It sounds like you're subconsciously pairing yourself up with Ash," Brock agreed eagerly. "I would pay attention to that. Tell us, Misty, have you have any dreams involving a certain Ash Ketchum?"

"Okay, if you don't want to hear it, I don't have to tell it," she snapped. "I mean, really. Everyone can die for all I care. I hate all of you. When everyone's dying, you can think of how it's all your fault because you just had to keep messing with me like the jerks you are."

"I think it'd be your fault."

"It wouldn't."

"Ending the world because we teased you? Sounds more like your fault than ours."

"I hate you both." She threw herself down on the bed. "So, yes, he's obsessed with me because he's a little boy who wants his mother. He sees a lot of his mother in me so he follows me around. That's what I think, anyway. In between the book and his memories, I've got a pretty good idea of what's going on."

"Still too fast," Ash countered. "How is he a kid?"

"That's when he stopped aging."

"Why?"

"That's part of the long story. But he was a kid when he stopped aging, and because of some stuff I have to explain, we'll get to it." She smirked. "Don't you want the exposition done the right way, Ash?"

"Okay, next question, you have his memories?"

"I do. Don't you?"

He shook his head. "Brock?"

"Nothing for me either."

"As far as I know, he was in our mind. You know, he got all of our fears, he made the world just like ours, all the parts of our houses. He had to put things there, he had to make us feel everything the way he did, he had to be deep. I mean, how can you get that deep without leaving something behind?" She shook her head. "And I'd bet anything that that information comes from him too. We could find another psychic, see if she could confirm it for us."

"Like Sabrina?" Brock suggested, and shuddered as he remembered the last visit.

Misty cringed as well. "I guess."

"So how long has he been around?"

"His father settled Pallet. He was the king, probably of a little bit of Johto on top of Kanto. The mountains were his instead of the no man's land they are now." She closed her eyes, feeling strange remembering memories that weren't her own. They felt like memories, and she could feel the heat of a Pallet Town summer on her back and taste dried meats on her tongue. "They used pokémon to build houses, mostly mud huts, but the king had brick. They farmed a little, but not well. They couldn't irrigate yet. They hadn't…no, they did have some livestock. Not much, but they had it."

"That's pretty old."

"And they didn't have science, not really. They had some unreliable magic, and the only thing they worked on was…was making warriors." Her brow wrinkled. "Out of people and pokémon, I think. By making them stronger."

Ash shook his head. "They combined them."

"But they didn't get powers, really," she agreed. "They got-"

"Stronger, until Hyacinth showed up. Because he didn't want something big or small. He wanted something smart."

"Know what it is?"

"No."

Brock looked back and forth between the two, mouth hanging open. "How the hell did you do that?"

"It's not hard," Ash chirped. "You try."

He gave Ash a look that said quite clearly he didn't plan on it, then looked back at Misty. "So this guy was a prince?"

"Oh, no." Misty shook her head. "I mean, he was the first born, but he wasn't anything close to a king."

_She smelled warm and sweet, though she was sweating from the heat that was trapped inside the mud hut, but she held the babe close, the thing squirming as it latched onto her breast. He finally caught, sucking greedily, and looked up at her as he drank, rich brown eyes locked onto hers. She smiled at the babe, pushing her thick brown curls from her face, wishing distantly that it wasn't so horribly hot, and eyed the five year old who sat gawking a few feet away._

_"Jacob," she scolded softly. "It is rude to stare."_

_"Sorry," he said, eyes still glued to the child._

_"Jacob what did I say?"_

_"Who is the baby's father?"_

_"The king."_

_"Does that mean he will be king?" He hesitated. "Does that mean he will be _my _king?"_

_She smiled. "I'm not his queen."_

_"But he's first born."_

_"He is."_

_"So he is the king."_

_She laughed, shaking her head. "No, but he is likely to be chosen."_

_"For what?"_

_"For world saving, Jacob." She raised an eyebrow. "Have you not minded the stories?"_

"But there isn't a Chosen One every generation. I mean, my dad didn't show me how to be one and there's nothing about anyone in my family doing anything special. So how did they know he was going to be one?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Maybe they just called them Chosen when they weren't. They just wanted to have a hero to look up to. People didn't have a lot back then. They needed their heroes to help them through. Still, Hyacinth ended up being a Chosen One. Unfortunately, he wasn't what they were looking for. They wanted someone strong and he…he really wasn't."

"What do you mean?" Brock asked. "For someone weak he seems to have beat us up pretty well."

"He didn't want to conquer. He wanted to change things. And, when you've got a king, you're not exactly thrilled about change, because that means you lose your power."

And Hyacinth sat on a bed just beyond them, glaring. The couldn't see him. He didn't want them to, especially since he was small enough to hug his pillow and hide under it, since he was tan as Ash and had the same dark eyes, since he was crying a little bit as he watched the redhead turn the pages of the book in her mind, whispering his story to the boys he barely stood, the gym leader and one of the chosen. His teeth bared at the thought of it.

_One of _the Chosen.

He was _not _the only one.

_"We are going to lose."_

_"Hush, Hyacinth!" he mother scolded._

_"But we are," he protested, slamming his fist on the floor as the older men crowded around the map, pushing clay men around the field._

_"Oh, are we Chosen Boy?" the king asked with a cocky smirk. "Then show us what we are doing wrong. How would you fight this battle?"_

_"I wouldn't."_

_The men laughed. "Then perhaps you should not talk."_

_"Hoenn has too many ships, and many of our men cannot swim. Only men from Cerulean and those that are coastal or those mixed with water pokemon blood. They have not gotten on well with Johto, so why do we not trick them into thinking we are after Johto, and attack them while their army is out at sea?"_

_"Clever boy." The king grinned, then elbowed the closest man to him. "Yet he can't lift a wooden sword."_

_"I am but six winters!" he protested. "The sword is bigger than I am!"_

_"The last Chosen One could move mountains."_

_"He caused war."_

_"A war that united."_

_He snarled, clutching his hands into fists and shaking. "Well, I can do it without a war."_

_"Hyacinth," his mother hissed. "He is your king."_

_"And I his champion!" he shouted, leaping to his feet._

_"And I am also your father."_

_"Father indeed."_

_He stormed across the board and picked him up by the wrist, dangling him in the air and screaming in his face, "I gave you life, boy!"_

_"You gave me blood. My mother carried me and my gods gave me life. You gave me blood and black hair and a face that will always look like a child's."_

_He growled, but set him down, the hair on his arms raising. "Have you decided what pokemon to mix your blood with?"_

_"I've decided not to."_

_"I demand you do so."_

_"As my king, you hardly outrank me enough to make that decision," Hyacinth mumbled. "Not when I am your champion."_

_"I do as your father, whether you look down your nose at me or not, you brat."_

_"Men who run out of reason use insults."_

_His mother snatched him up, apologizing to the king with a low bow, and pulled her observant son from the room with a sharp swat to his ear._

"Why does he get superpowers? Why don't I have superpowers?" Ash fumed, crossing his arms. "He better have killed for those or I'll be pissed."

She laughed. "Oh great, I get to make you feel like an ass."

"Don't you always?"

_"Ow! Jacob! That hurts!"_

_"Well, if you want me to listen, you've got to give me something else in return." He loaded his sling shot with another small, light block of wood. "I think a moving target does my shot wonders."_

_"I could be revolutionizing the country!" he argued._

_"I could take down a legendary."_

_"And I could be a warrior." He snorted. "Jacob, you are no better than anyone else in the town. Meanwhile, I know how to make the towns stronger, and how to calm them down."_

_"Kill them?"_

_"How would that help?"_

_"Killing things always helps." He released the wood into the air, and the bird crashed into the bush. He laughed and smiled. "Look, I've got dinner. What are you eating?"_

_"The stantler I caught in a trap," he retorted._

_He rolled his eyes. "Well, aren't you wonderful?"_

_"So, you know how the leaders of the town specialize?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_"What if we chose men and women and women in Fuscia who were the cleverest, who were the strongest against poison, and allowed only them to have kids and lead the cities?" he said eagerly, settling down beside his older friend. "It's not who was able to force their way in, but whoever mastered their specialty. We could have a town for each type."_

_"But what if, when they have kids, some other guy is better at poison?"_

_"Then that man gets to lead."_

_"And their kids don't get anything?" He frowned. "That's not fair."_

_"If the two best people have kids every time, soon it will be the kids who are always strongest. It gets passed on."_

_"What, like blood?"_

_"Yes, but everything gets passed on. Don't you read?"_

_His eyes widened. "You can read?"_

_"Of course I can!"_

_"Don't say of course! Hardly anyone knows how to read! How'd you learn?"_

_"Mom."_

_He snorted. "Women can't read."_

_"Mom can."_

_"Your mom's a man, then," he retorted with a giggle._

_"And you're a Snorlax's hindquarters."_

_"She's nice though. I wish I could marry her."_

_"You're only eleven."_

_"I'll marry her two more winters, then."_

_"She's the king's. I doubt he would like that."_

_"Don't think he'd like your idea either."_

_"Why not?"_

_"His son can't lead no matter how much they try. If your ideas went through, you would be a king, a concubine's kid. Think he'd like that?"_

_"I'm his son, too."_

_"Not his first born."_

_Hyacinth shook his head. "You shouldn't get anything because you were born first."_

_"You're too strange."_

_Jacob sighed, laying back in the grass. "Suppose."_

She shut her eyes tight, not liking how quick the images flashed in front of her eyes now. "That was the first time anyone had thought of that. Then…then things went sour."

_"Mother?" he asked, sitting beside her. She dunked her hands in the river, the water flowing away red. "Are you hurt?"_

_"Not I." She rubbed her hands in the chilly stream, barely glancing at her son before focusing harder on her work. "But a man is dead in the city. He has a cooking knife through his chest. That is what happens when you dare to touch a king's woman, don't you think, Hyacinth?"_

_He swallowed nervously, touching her shoulder. "What did he do?"_

_"I will not have another child. That is all that matters." He pulled her hands from the water and wiped them along her dress. "But you must not tell, Hyacinth. What happened must never leave this place. This secret stays between you and myself and the river. No one beyond this."_

_"You killed a man, Mother?"_

_"I have." She kissed his forehead softly. "I must go to the mountains to repent, but I promise to return. I promise I will not abandon you. Until then, draw no attention to yourself. I cannot protect you while I am away."_

_"What will you tell the king?"_

_"That I have lost a child and I wish to pray for another. Tell no one, my son. This is too great a secret for most minds to bear."_

_"I can't do this alone."_

_"Oh, my strong boy, you can. Better than anyone else."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"Your mother has magic, Hyacinth, to see much more." She kissed his face again. "And I know that I will see you once more."_

"So she went off, and he was left alone."

_"Jacob!"_

"And his friend…he…"

_"Stop!"_

_"I have the strength of a thousand men and my nails are now talons for ripping men to shreds." They shifted in his shirt and stung against his chest, blood staining the fabric. "My body always burns with heat. I drink but never cool. I cannot sweat. Water on my skin does nothing. I crave the sky and I crave the warmth of a crackling fire and I cannot enter. I crave the scent of roasting flesh most of all. But that, dear Hyacinth. That I can obtain quite easily now._"

"He changed."

_"I have had your mother in my dreams," he snarled, baring his teeth. "I have had her in every way you can imagine, and when she returns, her death goes to me. I kill a killer."_

_"Jacob," he whispered crying, "Don't."_

_"But first," he snarled, leaning heavier on him. "I will make myself a man."_

Misty swallowed. "And he did."

"What did Hyacinth do?"

"Nothing," she said hollowly. "They took him."

"Why did they take him?"

"He had no one to protect him. He didn't have a choice about changing. And, once his mother was dead, he really didn't care about much. He had no one."

_They treated him with no dignity. They stripped him of his clothes and hauled him up, looking him over every which way until the consensus was raticate, sweeping through the halls. They taught him the words for the ritual, they fed him the herbs, and all was ready for the prisoner to become a slave. A raticate sapped the mind of strength, having a strong primal side that was rarely tamed by the human half when the two creatures mixed, and they agreed nothing could be more perfect for the outspoken boy._

_Until the king walked in, grinning down, "My first born of my first love. Are you ready to meet your fate?"_

_He stared straight ahead. "You are not my father."_

_"Back to that?"_

_"I having nothing. I am dead, yet I still walk. Use my body as you will. It only keeps me here."_

_"You wish to join your mother?"_

_"I have no desire," he whispered. "Do with me as you will, o'king, and I will be your loyal servant."_

_He growled, bristling. "Then I want you dead."_

_The child tilted his head back and exposed his neck, slick with seat from the dungeon. "As you wish, o'king."_

"So he killed him?"

"Not quite."

Ash sighed. "Damn."

"Did you guess he was a ghost?" Brock chuckled.

"It fit."

"He's not a ghost. He didn't just take a knife to him. That wouldn't have been enough. His son was planning treason against him. His mother had killed one of his men. The fact that she was trying to prevent a rape didn't mean a thing. One of his concubines could kill one of his greatest soldiers, and this was her child." She tangled her hands in her hair, trying to calm her nerves, which felt as if they were going through the ordeal rather than Hyacinth. "He was furious. He made it public, and he did it the worst way he knew how."

"Drowning?"

"He's not a ghost, Ash."

'Well, what did he do?"

"Alakazam," Brock whispered. "Drive a man mad and make his brain explode from the stress. Makes a second feel like an eternity."

She nodded. "They called on their kraken."

"And that's what killed him."

"For love of everything with a double digit IQ, Ash, he's not a damn ghost!"

"Then what is he?" he shouted, throwing his arms out.

"Oh, Ash," she sighed. "He's a kid."

_The hole was miles wide and ringed with symbols to keep the Alakazam contained. Everyone had seen it before. It was where they tossed the traitors who were drive mad, then had their hands cracked open like eggs by a rock or foot, and the golden beast would lick up the brain before devouring the rest, the hair from its moustache trailing to the ground. When it wasn't feeding, it built. Houses and playgrounds and chemical formulas that no man could understand were scratched into the dirty and built into the rock. They said if you met its eye it would steal your soul and pull you in. Men threw rocks at it to watch them be swiped away by an incredible psychic blast._

_Hyacinth faced it calmly, meeting its eyes. His body was battered from the roll down, covered in cuts and scrapes, and he trembled with exhaustion. Still, he held no fear, staring up at the beast with an almost pitiful look. "I was going to make things better for everyone, you know."_

_It blew heavily through his nose, taking a cautious step forward. It sent wary thoughts and feelings at the boy, and Hyacinth kneeled at the power of it. There had been psychic types that swept through the town at one time or another, but those had barely been a tickle in his mind. Every feeling this creature scent felt like he was being beaten with a brick. The beast was older than mankind, he knew, and its power rivaled that of the Legendaries. It was alone, now, and trapped, and unable to stand the boredom that it had endured for hundreds of years._

_"I wanted to change the world. Make it better," he explained._

_It told him that the time for change had passed, that his pleas would be ignored no matter what he tried or did. It slithered into his mind with visions of strength and power and intelligence, dreams of a life where he would never feel death. It fed on the hate for his father and the betrayal of his friend, and soon Hyacinth was seizing on the ground from the invasion in his mind, the raw power that dragged at his sanity._

_"Blood of mine, be yours. Blood of yours, be mine," he gasped, sounding strangled. He breathed in as deeply as he could, then shouted, "Let our power be shared!"_

_He felt a flash of pain on his head, and the warm blood mixing with his. For a moment the entire world exploded inside his mind, then faded to a low, simmering ache that pounded on every corner of his mind. The symbols cracked before him, and he crawled from the hole. The power was strong, and it roared through him, roared out of him every which way. He flung it away to calm himself, to have his eyes clear enough to see, and when she saw the men with pitchforks and fire, he screamed. They had killed his mother. More importantly, strangely, they had trapped him for a hundred years, though he had only lived a few._

_So he turned to his old friend and he entered his mind and drove him mad. Then he set Jacob toward the village, and walked away._

**

* * *

**

So much exposition, I'm sorry! I hate this chapter but I can't make it better!

Thanks for your patience. You're all wonderful.


	14. Making a Plan

Oh, hey. Hi. Uh, haven't seen you in a while. You look…you look nice, you know? Guess you handled our break pretty well. I was…I was wondering if you wanted to, uh, read me again? I can understand if you don't, because you look…amazing, after this break up, but…if you did…

Readers, I still have feelings for you. I can only hope that I haven't waited long enough to ruin this relationship.

* * *

**Making a Plan**

They had questions. Lots of them. Which was to be expected. Misty could only fill in so much, and details on Hyacinth's past weren't guaranteed to help defeat him now. So they asked about things like how much pokémon he had in him, and if he was weak to dark type attacks, and if he still had the mind of a child, and all sorts of things that she could only guess at, and even then they weren't very good guesses.

She hadn't gotten all his memories, only strong ones. One was just a warm, heavenly scent she recognized as his mother, another was the taste of salted meats and fresh made cheese and the feel of grass all along her back. She had small memories of getting burned by fire or her finger being stomped on that so painstakingly warned her away from those dangers. So Misty could only answer the questions so well, really, although it was a bit disappointing to the boys. Eventually, they ran out of questions and each went back to their own beds.

Then came the weight, the oh so familiar weight of his body pressing down on her bed, making a dent and the springs squeak under protest of the new mass. It was a startling thought to think that he was really there, physically lying next to her and in his real shape, small and young and nervous, and once she turned she met features that looked so much like Ash's that she gasped, eyes widening as if they would help in the dark.

He smiled, making her wonder how the fragile little thing, all arms and legs that curled up next to her, could make worlds and kill men and probe for a weakness only to exploit it and drive a person mad – especially when he said in that small, adorable voice, "Hi."

"Hyacinth?" she murmured.

"You told."

"You could have stopped me."

"You're the first one to tell about the memories, you know," he said, and, to her surprise, curled up next to her. He buried his face in her chest, a little hand curling into her shirt and breathing slow, relaxed, making her stiffen up and wonder what she should do in response.

She settled for talking. As the youngest of four sisters, she didn't know much about child rearing. She understood the basics of what to check for when they cried and what to feed them, when they could and couldn't be left alone, but she didn't know what to do when they wanted comfort or cuddling, or thought of her as a mother. She could talk, though, and she could do that very well. If the few schools she had dropped by on her journeys with Ash were anything to go by, kids quite liked talking.

"Why not?"

"Fear of being connected to a killer."

She smirked. "I've got the killer thing down already."

He shook his head, and she resisted the urge to push him off of her. It was weird, having his face in an area where she hadn't let many, and knowing that he was simply doing it for a place to be warm, for a place to feel like she was his mother, sent little shocks down her spine. Her mind rushed with little hands and little fingers and big eyes that were just so, so dependent, and clashed with a man with milky white skin and stars in his hair that tortured her friends.

She looked down at him, and he looked up at her, and he whispered, "It wasn't you who killed him."

She resisted the urge to brush the bangs from his eyes, furious at the tender feelings she had, and reminded herself of who he really was. "It was me, Hyacinth. Don't try and take responsibility for it."

"Why not? I've killed lots of people, and I've killed them in way, way worse ways than just burning them up." He shrugged. "What's one more?"

"Because it's not yours. It's mine," she said firmly. "Aiden died, and I take responsibility for that. It wasn't on purpose, but it was my fault."

"Fine. Take the blame," he sniffed, then slammed his head back in her chest, which made her wince, because his head was hard and he managed to his her breast bone, but still she couldn't bring herself to pull away. Then, muttering sulkily and clearly not noticing she was cringing at the pain, "I don't care."

Misty smirked at that, and this time couldn't resist the urge to swipe the hair from his face, though she whipped her hand back the moment she realized what she had done. "If you didn't care you wouldn't be offering."

"Touché," he muttered.

"Why did you do it, then?" The amended, "If it was you."

"Do what? Kill him?" he asked, and grabbed one of her hands so he could fiddle with her fingers. "You reminded me of my mother, and he was hurting you. He went off and kissed your sister, and that wasn't right. You deserved more than that. I could have done it myself, but I thought you should. When I looked into your mind and saw Ash, I thought you should see death now, before you had to see it through him."

She frowned slightly. "You were trying to protect me?"

He held her hand tightly. "You're so like her, so much like her. I just can't let it go. It's so…strange. And stranger still, knowing this protective feeling you have back."

"For who you _used_ to be," she argued quickly. "Not for who you are."

"I know." He paused again, dropped her hand, and dug his fingers into her shirt. "They broke me, you know. Like I broke Ash."

"Not quite."

"No, it's the same. He just still has things left to live for, to care about. Have him live a thousand years and he'll be worse. I think he'd be like me."

"No, because Ash would make new friends when old friends died," she countered softly. "Because he cares about the world, and he cares about life, and he doesn't care whether people are his friends or not, he wants to keep them safe. He'll always have something to live for."

"I've lost it."

"You can find something new," she whispered, and now she let herself hug him, cradle him softly against her. "Hyacinth, you can stop this. You could stay with us, learn how to live again."

"I don't want to live. I want to die." He glared, but he didn't stiffen, and he didn't pull away. "And if the strongest in the world can't beat me, then life deserves to go with it."

She didn't pull away either, to her surprise. Instead she stroked his hair, and she rubbed his back, and she ignored it when she felt her shirt dampen and his breaths come in little ragged gasps. And part of her, a very small part of her thought that it might be easy to hold him just a little too close and stop him from breathing, or twist his head and end it all, she couldn't will her hands to do it. As much as she wished to, she couldn't deny that there was a just small boy in her hands. _Just _a small boy, and not a single thing more.

When morning rolled around, yet another weight woke her. However, this wasn't for a cuddling, talking moment, but because a fully grown child, namely Ash Ketchum, had taken a running leap onto her bed, was straddling her hips, and had his hands flat on either side of her face. To his disappointment, she woke up with a scowl instead of a gasp or a scream, but he kept chipper and chirped a very merry "Morning!" that made her want to punch him in his much too close face.

She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if she was going to get more sleep, then opened one eye and made a sufficiently terrifying glare. "Ash, I'm going to ask you this once, and I want a real answer. Not a smart ass answer, a real answer. The sun is barely up. Why the hell am I awake?"

He beamed, seemingly proud of the fact that he had disturbed her sleep. "Well, Mom told me that since you're better and breakfast is ready, I should come and wake you up by any means possible."

And, knowing his typical method of "any means possible" she bared her teeth and snarled "Don't you dare!" then grabbed her covers up in both hands, tucking them up to her chin and bracing all her muscles for the inevitable battle that would ensue. He rushed to the end of the bed and tugged on it, bracing his feet on the bottom of the bed to yank it out of her grasp and sending the sheets (and himself, but it was worth it) to the floor.

"It's freaking cold!" she shrieked, balling up in the bed and hugging the pillow, the one source of heat she had left.

He grinned, leaping back onto the bed and hugging her tight around the waist, whispering in what was an attempt to be a sexy voice but was ruined by his giggling, "Want me to warm you up?"

She flushed and pushed him off, sitting up and looking at him rubbing the sore spot on his back where he had hit. "Happy today, aren't we?"

"Everyone's okay! I saved them!" He laughed. "What's not to be happy about?"

"We still have the big baddie to fight."

He leapt up and brought his forehead to hers. "You know, my mom would say you're too young to be this cynical."

"My sisters would say you're too close to be friendly. So would I, considering the fact that we're four layers of clothing away from sex. Assuming you're wearing underwear."

He winked. "Maybe I'm not being friendly."

"Ash Ketchum flirts now?" she asked, pulling away and blinking.

"I can if I want." He stuck out his tongue. "I hung out with Brock for long enough. I picked up a few of his better tricks. I mean, I'm not going to say something like are those space pants because your butt is out of this world, but I think I've got some of the better stuff. What do you think?"

"I think it's weird." She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Don't do it anymore and definitely don't say that space pants line."

He poked her cheek, and she swatted his hand away. "But you're blushing."

"I'm a redhead, I always blush. What's your excuse?"

"I'm excited."

She smirked. "Well, like I said, we're four layers of clothing away-"

Ash laughed and tugged a lock of her hair, reminding her to sweep it up in her usual side ponytail style. He let her, turning away to stride down out the door and down the hall towards the smell of eggs and bacon. "Come on, Mist. We have to go down for breakfast."

"I never okayed that nickname!" she shouted after him.

"I never said I cared!" he retorted.

She leapt out of bed and charged, catching up to the boy quick, slapping him playfully on the back. "You really shouldn't flirt, Ketchum. It's _creepy_, with you winking and stuff. It's like hearing you say something…I don't know. It's just _weird_. Especially considering who you travel around with."

He laughed, considering saying a few dirty phrases just to throw her off, but decided elbow her and ask, "What do you mean?"

She tugged him to the side of the hallway, crouching down like they were ten again and spying on the adults. Instead, they looked at a breakfast table full of his friends, and Misty carefully pointed to the girl with blue hair and whispered, "She's gorgeous, you know that? She's more beautiful than my sisters. She's not pretty or hot. The girl's _beautiful_, and thinking of an Ash that flirts hanging around her is _weird_."

"I know she's pretty," Ash agreed, smirking, and not quite sure why he was whispering as well. "Don't tell me you're feeling jealous?"

It was worth any backlash he knew he'd be getting to see the blush reach up to her ears and hear the embarrassed squeak in her voice when she asked, "Why would I be _jealous_? I'm not that vain. I mean, my sisters are pretty. I got over that kind of thing a long time ago."

"I was traveling with a gorgeous younger girl, you're a jealous person." He poked her side, and she slapped his hand away much harder than she needed to. "It's not that big of a stretch to assume you're jealous."

She pinched his shoulder hard enough to bruise it. "I'm _not_ a jealous person."

"You're either joking or delusional."

"I'm not," she defended. "I'm just very, very competitive. And I was trying to be nice and compliment your stupid friend. Why are you being a jerk?"

"Raikou…you're jealous of a _twelve year old_."

"Shut up." She pinched him again, even harder than before. "I am not."

"You're jealous of a twelve year old. And you're _eighteen_."

"I am _not_."

"Don't worry, I'm not dating Dawn. Or making out with her. We skip all that and go to the illegal sex," he taunted, poking her in the side again despite the glares and pinches and slaps that told him she really, really didn't like it, and continued, "It's really fun, having an underage girlfriend."

"Oh, shut up," she muttered.

There was an awkward clearing of the throat, and they spun to see Max standing behind the two of them, looking back and forth. "Um, I don't know why you're here, and I really hope this isn't some adult thing that I'm not supposed to know about, so can you tell me what you're doing?"

"We're spying on all of Ash's friends and I'm telling him that he shouldn't flirt, because it's creepy when he travels with a twelve year old, and I can only imagine that Ash isn't smart enough to work out who to flirt with and who to stay away from, let alone check the laws across different regions," Misty explained calmly. "We're not doing anything adult. Except this might get up to R rated content if Ash keeps poking me, because I'll rip his head off."

"I just want bacon," Max said just as calmly. "Do you mind if I squeeze past you?"

Ash stood up and dragged Misty with him, and they all settled down to have a nice breakfast, sure to steer clear of all talk about the star haired man. However, discreet, code talk in which Ash mercilessly mocked Misty for being jealous, which included, "Gee, Misty, could you pass that bacon you're jealously guarding to Dawn?" and "Are you sure you're feeling better? You look a little green." which ended with Ash groaning and clutching his shin under the table.

Then, one by one, his friends called their loved ones and headed out the door, saying they were glad they got out of another mess and telling Ash what an amazing job he had done in saving them. Dawn was the very last to go, apologizing she couldn't continue the journey for a while, but saying that her mom needed to see her, and needed to know that she was really okay. Until all that remained in the house was the original trio, Misty Brock and Ash, looking at each other across a table while Mrs. Ketchum tended the garden.

"We could call them back," Brock said softly. "Tell them what we're going to do, so they know not to worry if something happens."

Ash shook his head. "It'll just worry them more. If something does happen he'll make it look like an accident."

"It won't feel like an accident, will it?" the oldest boy asked, and the three resumed staring at the table, until Brock heaved a breath and said. "Fine. So it's only us. We've done that plenty of times before. Now we just need to figure out what we're going to do about it. I mean, how do you beat a psychic?"

"With a dark type," Ash said, repeating his sentiments from last night. "Maybe a ghost or a bug. I heard Vespiquen are really good for fighting psychic types."

"We can't challenge him to a pokémon battle. He's not that kind of psychic."

"What do you mean that kind of psychic?" Ash pressed. "A psychic is a psychic."

"But we haven't seen him throw things into walls. We haven't seen him pick stuff up with his mind, or bend spoons. The only thing we know he can do for sure is mess with our heads." Misty scowled. "Not that it makes a difference, because if you _think _he's three inches to the right and he's actually three inches to the left you're going to miss him every time you take a swing."

Brock grinned slowly. "But there are other kinds of psychics."

"Yeah. We've met them," Misty said.

Ash grinned now too, seeming to pick up on Brock's plan. "There are psychics who can throw stuff into walls and bend spoons and probably know all about the different kinds of psychics and psychic pokémon and kids with psychic powers, and how kids go crazy when they have too much psychic power, especially if they have a class for teaching psychics and everything."

"Yeah, I can think of a…" She trailed off, looking back and forth between the two smiling boys. "Oh, no. You wouldn't do this to me. Please, _please_ tell me that you wouldn't do this to me after what happened the last time we went."

"I didn't have a great time on our last visit either," Brock said, "but you don't see me complaining about it."

She whined, "But you _know _how ghosts and stuff give me the creeps."

"Yeah, but this isn't _ghosts_," Ash argued. "This is all about psychics, and they're totally different from ghosts, except that sometimes they can talk to dead people, and we don't even know whether or not Sabrina knows how to do that."

She paled, gulping. "But she turned us into freaking _dolls _last time, and then she tried to run us over with a giant ball and everything! She tried to kill us! If it wasn't for her creepy dad we would have been dead!"

"She's the best psychic in the region, possibly the world," Brock continued.

"And she was holding her creepy little girl self!"

"I was a doll too, you know," the older boy muttered. "You don't see me still complaining about it, do you?"

She groaned, slammed her head down on the table, and muttered something akin to, "I hate my fraking life."

* * *

She complained right up into the car. Not loudly, but soft and muttering and stomping around They heard "I hate this" and "she's insane" and "I'd rather just deal with him:, but five minutes later she was laying down in the back seat, her feet on the window and soring away to the rumble of the engine and bouncing along to the bumps in the road, leaving Brock to drive and Ash to roll his eyes at it all.

And then, just a few minutes later, he was sitting deep in his own seat, looking at the long stretch ahead and wondering. Misty behind him, Brock, beside him, and Sabrina just head to hopefully set everything straight. But, ever so suddenly, he sat up straight and blurted, "What if I didn't?" which was so uncalled for the Brock dared to look away from the road for a moment.

"Didn't what?"

"What if I let it go? I mean, lots of people have done all of this before. Lots of heroes. They came back and forgot and Hyacinth went back to whatever he does whenever there isn't a hero to torture out there." He frowned, and Pikachu stood up to lick his cheek. "What if I just don't do it? This is the way it's been for…for a really long time. SO, what if I just let it keep happening, like it's supposed to?"

"You think it's supposed to?"

"I don't know."

"That's not like you."

He smirked. "What are you talking about Brock? I don't know lots of things."

"That's not what I meant," he said flatly, watching Ash's smirk fall away. "You never talked about things that are supposed to happen. You don't let things go. If you see something that you think is wrong, you fix it. No matter what someone says or thinks, you do what you know you have to. You always do you best to do what you think is right."

"But I'm always supposed to do what's right. It's not like I've ever supposed to do what's wrong. It's not like I'm ever the bad guy. I just do what I'm supposed to. Whatever the really old guy who wrote on a stone tablet said I'm supposed to do."

"You're not suppo-"

"Yes, I am," he said firmly. "Every prophecy, every story, every instruction manual. I follow them, Brock. I do what someone says I'm supposed to, just like I always do. Bad guys don't ask me to join their side. I just listen to someone tell me that this bad thing is happening and that someone needs to fix it and I do it. I do what someone says I'm supposed to! So what if Hyacinth's supposed to be here? What if Hyacinth was really made to test heroes, to balance things out/ You know, so we don't get too cocky. So we get killed before we get carried away. Maybe he keeps things from getting even worse."

"What brought all this on?"

"Thinking." He grinned bitterly. "See? That's not like me, and look at all the trouble that's bringing."

"I think you should stop him."

"That's really easy to say from six inches to the right, isn't it?" he accused, then gulped and continued, "You don't know, though. If I make the wrong choice and everything goes wrong, then it's my fault. Everyone gets hurt. Hell, it could even be me that messes everything up. I could go out of control. Brock, I have absolutely nothing to go on. I do know what I'm supposed to do. There's no prophecy for this. There's no rules."

"Well, what about-?"

"And before that, when we were in that world, in our heads, wherever we were? There were rules there too. I mean, at least there was a goal. Save my friends, come back home. There's nothing complicated about it. I mean, it was save you or you died. That's it. End of story. And now there's no guideline at all. I don't know whether I'm supposed to kill him or walk away or…or what."

"It's all on you."

"Well, why? I'm eighteen. Why should this be my responsibility? There…" He fritted his teeth, snarling, "There should be a committee or something. There should be a vote on whether or not to help him or…or…" He slammed his fist against the dashboard. "There should be someone smarter than me doing this!"

"Shut up, dumbass."

That was the sleepy grumble from the back. Still fast asleep, she had snapped at him. He spun to see her sleeping, then laughed. He put his forehead on the dashboard and laughing until his sides ached and his chest burned with each gasp, air shooting down his dry throat like fire and he wiped his tears from his cheeks and eyes and then he settled, staring out the window without another sound.

"You okay, Ash?" Brock asked.

"You know what I just did?"

"No."

"You saw it, though?" he pressed. "You saw how I just…you saw what I did, Brock?"

"Yeah."

"You saw how I couldn't stop?"

"Yeah."

"If I do it again?" he said lightly, but his eyes were dead flat and every last muscle was strung taught, making him look more stone than human. His knuckles went white as he clutched his knees, desperately holding onto something even though it was physical and it wouldn't do a damn thing. "If I do that again, kill me."

"Why?"

"Don't ask why, just do it."

"I'm not going to-"

"If I lose it, Brock, you better kill me quick as you can." He glared. "I can't take that risk, alright? If I snap, Brock-o, you better kill me anyway you can as quick as you can. You promise me that."

"I can't-"

"It's not a _question_, Brock," he growled, grabbing his knees even tighter. "You _promise _me right now that if it all goes wrong, you'll kill me, because if I go out of control and I still have Pikachu and Charizard and…and, oh, Mew, all the pokémon I have. I can't take that risk, Brock. I don't know what I'd do if I went crazy with all of that, I don't have a clue, but it can't be good. So you have to promise me you won't let me do it."

He glared. "Fine. Promise me you won't lose it."

Ash glared right back. "You know I can't-"

"It wasn't a question," he countered smugly, holding none of the humor he had intended it to. "You promise, I promise. I think it's a fair trade."

"Fine, I promise."

"Promise what?" he prompted.

His voice shook. "I promise not to go crazy."

"And I promise to kill you if you do."

"Thanks, Brock-o," he said weakly. "Thanks for that."

"I don't think you should thank me for it." Brock laughed shakily. "So, now that we've gotten that fight out of the way, what do we do for the next three hours?"

"Sleep."

"I can't do that."

He giggled. "Suck to be you, Brock. I can sleep. I'm not driving so I can sleep all I want. Maybe you can turn on the radio. Bet Oak's talking. Want to listen to Oak talk for the next four hours? Maybe he'll recite poetry for ya. You can compare it to your own love poems, pick up a few pointers on how to write and maybe get a girl."

"It's three hours, Ash."

"Doesn't matter. There's not enough time in the world for you to figure out how to-"

"How are things with Misty?" The younger boy blushed. "Wow, that good, huh?"

"We kissed."

"You mean you two made out?"

"No, just kissed."

"You didn't get hot and heavy?"

"No, we just kissed."

"It was while I was in my coma, wasn't it? You finally had the chance to be alone, huh?"

"I hate you, Brock, and I'm glad you don't get to sleep."

"So, what's it like to have a girlfriend who can kick your ass?"

"Better than being alone."

"That was low."

Three hours passed and they pulled up to the Saffron City Gym with the soft jerk of a stopped car and the click that came with twisting the key and the silence of the engine. So they sat in the car, two awake and one asleep, and exchanged glances at one another and nervous glances at the backseat and played a few games of rock, paper, scissors, that ended in tied before Ash finally had an idea.

"What if we don't get her up?" he asked suddenly. "Think about it, not only does she get to sleep, but she doesn't have to run into Sabrina and she doesn't have to be afraid. I mean, it's a total win situation. "Nothing could possibly go wrong. It's the perfect plan."

"She'll kill you."

Ash laughed lightly. "Oh, no she won't. I mean, we've had problems in the past, but I think we're mostly over them now."

"She'll kill you if you don't let her come with us. Are you kidding me? She hates not knowing what's going on. We have to wake her up."

"And how do we do that?"

"Just wake her up," Brock urged. "She's not that grumpy when she wakes up. I'd do it, but she likes you. I think she'd be much happier if she woke up to your smiling face compared to mine."

"Yeah, that'll work. Morning, Misty! Welcome to Saffron! Hope you don't get turned into a doll again."

She groaned. "Oh, good. We're in the nightmare town, and I told you already, Ash. Mist is not an acceptable nickname. It's weather, and am I really that scary to wake up?"

"Hey there, Misty. How long have you been up?"

"Since we hit that speed bump too fast and I hit my head. About ten minutes ago." She sat up arms crossed and glaring. "Tell me you weren't really going to go in this without me, Ketchum."

"Your hair looks lovely today."

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Ash. I can't hide in the car just because she gives me the heebee jeebees. She's the best chance we have and even though she tried to kill us she's better now or something so I should forget the whole doll thing."

He frowned. "You sure?"

"What, are you afraid I'm going to completely freak out and ruin our chances of getting her to help?" He blushed and cleared his throat, and her mouth dropped with a disbelief the borderlined close to horror. "Are you serious?"

"What? " he cried. "I-I didn't say-"

"Oh my freaking Mew! You fucking think I'm going to ruin our chances of getting her to help because I'm going to completely freak out! I can't believe you!" She clenching her fists. "You are a dead man, Ketchum."

"Okay," he said awkwardly, "now you need to calm down before we can go in there."

"Ash!"

"Well, you are so mad you split an infinitive," Brock pointed out.

"You really don't want to play this game," she said fiercely, then turned to Ash. "You better take it back right now. There is no way that I would ever, ever ruin our chances. You're the one who messes up, not me!"

"You're freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out!" she shouted, then took a deep breath. "I'm not freaking out."

"Alright," he said suspiciously. "You can come, as long as you don't mention our last visit."

"What if she brings it up?"

"Why would she bring it up?"

"To apologize."

"Then accept her apology."

"I don't want to accept her apology."

"Dammit, Misty!"

"For Mew's sake! She turned me into a doll!"

"Would you get over this?"

"I was a doll!" she fumed, crossing her arms and pouting.

"Alright, you have two choices," he said slowly. "The first choice, the easy choice, is that you stay in the car and wait for us to get you once we're done, but then you can't ask Sarina any questions and you'll get mad that we can answer them because we didn't ask them, and then you'll yell because we asked all the wrong questions to Sabrina. The other one, the harder one, is that you come with us, be nice, only ask about Hyacinth, and hold in all your anger until we get outside, and then you can yell until your head explodes."

"Can't I just-?" she began.

"Two options," he said sternly. "You can have one, just one. Take your pick of which one you think you can live with."

So she glared at the concrete, knowing which one she was about to choose and knowing she needed to get some good, long sulking in now if she wanted to stand a chance of making it through the meeting. Once she had finished her thorough sulking, she nodded and stormed off towards the gym, leaving the two boys rolling their eyes and walking beside her, hoping that she had the self control she thought she possessed, so that pretty building the were walking towards wouldn't be their brand new prison in the shape of an extravagant dollhouse.

Both Ash and Brock scolded her again as they strode up, reminding her to keep quiet when they saw how she stiffened at being so close to the gym. Not that she was alone, as Ash felt the slightest shiver crawl up his spine and Brock used all his might to push down a few shakes of his own. There were waves and waves of psychic energy rolling off the place, and, not wanting to get any nearer, Brock nudged Ash forward to knock (because he sure as hell wasn't about to touch that door) and he nearly creamed when, after the first knock, the door was opened to Sabrina's slightly upturned lips.

"I waited until you knocked to open the door," she explained without so much as a casual 'hey' or a formal greeting. She plunged on, just as hurriedly as before, "I've been told that opening the door when you are only on the doorstep or coming up the road is creepy. Now I wait until after you walk to seem more normal. You all look startled, though. Did I do it wrong? What should I try next time so it isn't so strange?"

"Um…" Ash said uncertainly. "Waiting a little longer would help, or, you know, keep doing whatever you're doing, and when you hear the knock, that's when you come and answer it. I mean, that's what most people do, I think."

"That's not time efficient at all." She frowned, her index finger tapping against the door she held. "Wouldn't it be best to answer the door as soon as you sense another mind approaching with the intention to meet and/or battle you?"

"Most people can't sense minds," Brock helped, his nervousness fading as he took in the slim, very curvy, sexy Sabrina. "Most people aren't time efficient either. People get nervous when things are different, but just because other people think it's weird doesn't mean you should stop doing it. For instance, your beauty far surpasses all other in Saffron, but I would perish if you ever harmed yourself to get rid of your incredible beauty."

"Oh, Mew. Ash, would you mind stabbing me a few times?" the redhead groaned, entirely missing his startled glare.

Sabrina smiled, dropping her hand from the door and standing even straighter. "I find your attention flattering, and think you are quite attractive as well. However, there are far more pressing matters that we must attend to, and there is little time for us to waste it all with flirting."

Ash's eyes widened. "Is Hyacinth coming this way?"

She beamed now. "No, I'm making scones."

And so she was. The resident psychic led them to the back of the building, past rooms filled with men and women of all ages focusing their minds on bending spoons, lifting objects, and guessing what card the person opposite of them held. She swept them past the battling room, past grassy enclosures where the abras slept and drowzees practiced their hypnosis on one another, until they came to a small, plain room decorated in cool shades of blue and green, with green couches, a coffee table, and a small kitchen that wafted the smell of scones cooking from the oven. They watched her take them out telekinetically, putting them on plates while she used her hands to straight out the coffee table.

"We can help," Brock suggested eagerly, stepping forward.

"Oh, no, it's good for me to used my hands." She bounce the papers against the table to set them all straight. "If I relied only on my powers, I might be obsessed again. I've grown in power since the last time we met, despite how much I've eased back on my training, and I think we can all agree that losing my sense of self again would be quite horrible. I might kill someone if I lose myself again."

"You turned us into dolls!" Misty yelped, clapping her hands over her mouth an instant later but unable to take the other girl's peaceful demeanor for a moment longer, watching her wander to the counter and pour a cup of tea. "I'm sorry, Ash. I know I promised not to say anything, but it's too much! I expected her to be cold and indifferent, but she's not. You're not, Sabrina. You're acting as if we're about to have a slumber party!"

"The best way to make a friend is to be a friend," she said cheerfully, handing Misty the cup. "I'm sorry for everything I did to you. I won't say it wasn't really me, or blame my powers, or my parents. It was me. I take full responsibility for my actions, and I apologize to all three of you. I'd like to make it up in any way I can, not to mention as thanks for saving me from myself."

"What's this?" she said, wrapping her fingers around the warm mug.

"Chamomile. It relaxes the min and body. I understand why you would be anxious, and I wish to relieve any misgivings you may have of me." She went to fill more mugs. "I know you're having trouble, and it must be very serious to come here. I imagine it's a psychic foe, and I'll answer any questions I can."

"Are human psychics weak to any attacks?" Ash asked quickly.

"No more so than any other human, so physical power is going to hurt as much as anything else. However, most psychic powers can't affect a dark type. They make fantastic shield, and can even restrain a human psychic. In the olden days, pelts from a dark type were worn as hats to protect the mind. It was quite a lucrative business, trapping dark types. I'm glad it's fallen out of fashion in recent years."

He hesitated, glancing at Misty and Brock before quizzing, "What about a pokémon human hybrid?"

Her hands stilled for a moment before she picked up the other mugs and set them on the table, slowly sinking into the couch. "What you're saying it a terrible, terrible thing. Two creatures in one body, two minds in one body, ends with a terrible fusion of both. Neither are whole, no dominance can be found. Yet, for all they're similar, they're different, and two different minds can create something akin to bipolar disorder, or the two minds trying to separate from one another if both are strong enough. Either way, there is never any peace. It's a horrible life. We killed them off a long time ago, and the information on how to make one was burned and hidden and forgotten."

"How do you beat one?"

"You trap it. You trap is and you drive it mad until it kills itself." She set the mugs on the counter, then sat on one of the couches, looking at them expectantly until they realized she was waiting for them to sit. They did, and she continued, "It's a subject I've researched intensely, as many other psychics have, but there isn't much about it."

Brock leaned forward. "Why are psychics interested?"

"Two minds in one. It's fascinating." She shrugged.

"Can't you kill it quick?"

"I don't know how to. They're notoriously difficult to kill, and this is the only proven way to do so. It was how the psychics killed, driving each other mad, and often they would steal what mental power their enemy had. They reach a level I could never hope to obtain, would never want to obtain, with the madness it brings." She swallowed. "Does it have a name?"

"Hyacinth."

"Do you know the species?"

"Alakazam."

She closed her eyes and shuddered hard. "A terrible life for certain, but at least it's not a Legendary. Hyacinth should be killable, if extremely difficult to do so."

"And how do we drive him mad?"

"Ash!" Misty shouted, leaping to her feet. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Aren't you going to ask?"

"Ash what?"

"If there's any other way!" she hissed. "Aren't you going to ask if there's a nicer way to do it, a better way? Even if it's just…just trapping him forever."

"There's not."

"But you didn't even ask!"

"After everything he did, he deserves it!" he shouted.

"We've been through worse!" she shouted back. "You've died!"

"And he made me kill!"

"Kill what? Kill Gary? He wasn't even-"

"I killed Dawn!" His voice cracked, and he got to his feet, swallowing thickly. "He made me kill Dawn."

He turned on his heel and ran, and she swore at him, charging down after him and losing him in three or four turns. So she put her head in her hands and rested on the wall, her teeth bared as she spat, "You're listening. I know you're listening, so you come down. You come down right now and you tell me what happened and where he went."

"He killed a girl. Not a living girl, but a real girl."

"What do you mean?"

"I can see the future, sometimes," he murmured. "Is that what you're here to ask? What kind of psychic is Hyacinth? What special magic can we use to beat down the evil spirit, huh? Well, I can see the future, sometimes, not too clearly, though, and I can mess with minds. That's all I know how to do. So why don't you ask your little psychic that?"

She snorted. "Oh, you can see the future now, huh? What do you predict? That we all die horribly? I'm shocked."

"You feel sorry for me, in the end," he said, ignoring her sarcasm and smiling. "I don't know how or why, but you do. I don't know if I win or lose, but, no matter what, you care for me. You come back for me. Thank you."

She blinked. "Why are you thinking me? I'm trying to kill you, idiot."

"Because, when it happens, when you feel bad for me, I mean, I don't think I'll remember to say it. It's important I do. It's not just to be polite. It's because you deserve the thanks. You did that for Ash, and no one has ever done it for me."

"Done what?" she said, entirely baffled.

"Said thank you like it wasn't a job but a choice like you really appreciated it instead of hating when we fail." He squeezed her hand. "You don't understand what it means."

She nodded slightly. "They should have said thank you."

"They should have."

"But you shouldn't have kill them all."

His lips twitched. "I respectfully disagree."

"Tell me where Ash is."

"Answer me these riddles three."

"It's questions three," she corrected sharply, crossing her arms and resisting the urge to flick the small boy on the forehead. "And I'm not playing. All I want is to know where Ash is, so I can talk him into feeling better and then we can finally figure out how to kick your ass."

He shrugged. "It's a lovely sentiment, Misty."

"Your point?"

"You may not have noticed in your years apart, but Ash is a big boy now. Sometimes, just sometimes, big kids like to deal with things on their own for a bit before they're ready to talk about it. Sometimes they have to make their own decisions. Sometimes they don't appreciate redheads scuttling behind them acting all motherly and telling them to change their underwear or to play nice with the other children."

"It's not mothering."

"It looks like mothering."

"Because you _want _a mother. Because you want _me _as your mother, so everything I do looks that way! But I'm not her, and I never will be. I can't be a mother, not yet, and definitely not to you." She took a step back, arms wrapped tightly around herself. "It's not mothering. Caring about him isn't mothering him, and I don't care what you say, he needs someone to talk to right now. No amount of taunting or teasing is going to stop me from doing that, or Brock either. Because if I know Brock like I think I do, he's out searching for Ash too."

"Are you sure he's not out mooning over Sabrina? You can barely stop yourself from getting all weak kneed when-"

"We got you out of our heads, Hyacinth. Give it up." She smiled and shook her head, racing down the hallway. "You've already lost."

* * *

Only one or two chapters to go! Woo hoo!


	15. Last Joke

**Last Joke**

Ash Ketchum considered himself a murderer.

As far as he was concerned, it wasn't about the outcome. It didn't matter that the other Dawn, the real Dawn, was alive and well. It didn't matter that Hyacinth could snap his fingers and make a hundred versions of her, because it didn't change his actions. Nothing could change that he had taken a knife and slammed it into her, had left it there until his hands we're so covered with blood he could hardly get a good enough grip to pull it out. It didn't change that he didn't check, that he didn't pause, and think if there was a way to fix it. He'd done it without thinking, and that meant it was his default action. Killing was what he did and what he thought of before anything else.

Chosen Ones were hailed as heroes. They changed the world. Ash had read the stories, and page after page was filled with swords and knives and rocks that broke bones and slit throats. They threw the evil doers into volcanoes; they conquered people to bring them together. Ash Ketchum was one of those men. One of those boys. He wasn't quite sure what he was, anymore. He just knew he had fulfilled the ancient tradition of bringing peace by shedding blood and, at eighteen, he wasn't too surprised if his real reign of terror was just starting, if that fake Dawn was the beginning of many more, the rest of them being irreplaceable.

His mind took up the notion and ran with it. After all, he had to kill Hyacinth, didn't he? He wondered if the guilt went away after a while. He wondered how many it took before he was numb to it. Maybe after the fifth of sixth it started feeling like another day at work. Chop off a few heads, impale a few hearts, and go home to watch the baseball game on Channel 12. He wondered if he was good at it, or if it took practice. He wondered if he would get arrested or if the cops would applaud him every time he threw someone out a window. Would they nod along and say, "Oh yes, he deserved it. Good job, my man!" and clap him on the back?

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt Brock wrap him up tight, and though he supposed it wasn't very heroic, and that it was silly to do it if he was going to pick it up soon, the killing, that was, but he ended up sobbing big, coking gasps as the older boy held him, giving him a warm squeeze now and then as if to let Ash know he was still paying attention. Then came Misty, joining up in their group hug which, for some reason, made him cry even harder. He cried and cried and cried until the tears wouldn't come anymore. Then he pulled away from them both, refusing to look at either of them, and mumbled, "Why'd I do it?"

"It's a war," Brock explained, "and you're a soldier. That's what happens during war."

"I'm not a soldier."

"Fighting an enemy for a purpose greater than your own self-preservation? Sounds like one to me." Misty stretched a hand out, about to touch his shoulder, then pulled back slightly as he twitched away. "Considering you got out okay, I'd say you make a damn good one too."

"I killed Dawn."

"You killed an enemy."

"She's Dawn," he hissed. "She's not an enemy, she's _twelve_!"

"And what do you think happens when a town is bombed? Everyone under twenty one walks out okay? It's called a casualty. That's what happens when you fight."

"It wasn't casual."

"No, you idiot, a casualty-"

"I know what a Mew damned casualty is!" he shouted, glaring down the hall. "I know. But it wasn't casual. I wasn't fighting a hundred men with a machine gun and one of the bullets went off course. I wasn't raiding a gang and a kid got caught in the crossfire. I looked right into her eyes and I ran a knife through her, through her stomach."

"She would have killed you, Ash," Brock tried, and despite Ash's twitch away from him, he settled a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "You had the choice between letting her kill you and stopping her. She wouldn't have stopped at one attempt. She would have come at you again and again until one of you died. You had people to save. You didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice," he argued.

"Death isn't a viable option."

"But it _was_ a choice."

"And you chose to save us. You chose to save the Dawn who has a future and a real body and a real life. And you know what? You chose yourself. That's not always a bad thing." Misty grabbed his wrist. "You matter too, you know, just as much as anyone else."

"But I killed her."

"Because you were forced into a situation where you didn't have a choice. People would have died if you didn't kill someone. He thought you were too weak, that you didn't have the strength to make the choice one way or the other, and you'd lose everything, but he was wrong. Do you understand that? All that intelligence, and all those years and he was _wrong_," she continued eagerly.

"So?"

"So everyone makes mistakes. So everyone does stuff wrong. There's someone out there who could think of a way that would get everyone out without killing Dawn, but that person isn't here, they weren't there, so it doesn't matter. You did the best you could for the right reasons."

"I don't want to kill anyone."

She smiled. "Then don't."

"But what if I can't?"

"You're Ash fucking Ketchum, of course you can," Brock said, snorting as he tugged him to his feet. "Now, come on. There's scones waiting for us."

* * *

Sabrina's scones were terrible and there was no way around it. They were hard enough to gnaw on and she's clearly gone overboard with the garlic powder, though what the garlic could have possibly been doing in a cheese scone was anyone's guess. Aside from a glare from Misty which seems to say "I knew she was trying to kill us!" they took their rocks hard bread and gnawed at it, smiling and nodding whenever she asked if it was good, unable to verbally lie due to the high risk of gagging. Sabrina herself seemed to love them, crunching into them hard and sucking on them until they were soft enough to chew. She babbled on for a few awkward minutes about what ingredients she had mixed in (which made eating them even harder to do) until she finished and put her hands neatly in her lap.

"So, have we decided to kill him, or could you think of another way?" she asked merrily, watching them thankfully put down their own snacks.

"Is there a humane way to do it?" Ash inquired, glaring down at the carpet. "You know, like…like can you distract him and I could…I don't know. I could shoot him or something. If I shot him through the head or the heart he'd die instantly, just like anyone else, right? We don't have to make it something painful? Just…just quick?"

"You can leave him a gun in the trap. Maybe leave him some fast acting poison. Trap him and starve him. Trap him and asphyxiate him. Once we trap him, it's all up to him. He can choose to kill himself quickly, or let us do it slowly. With a powerful psychic like him, you're certainly not going to beat him in any kind of physical fight. He could easily toss you aide, or mess with your mind to the point you don't know right from left."

"That's it?"

"Unless he's willing to come in and we can have a pleasant discussion on how he'd like to be murdered, I honestly can't think of anything." Sabrina poured herself another cup of tea and drank it dry before pouring herself a third. "As I've said, there is little research on this topic. It's a fascinating one, and any academic in the world whether psychic or surgeon would adore to get their hands on the secret of how to make one."

Misty's brow furrowed. "So they kept track of how to kill one, but not how to make one?"

"I imagine they kept track of both, but one of them was more valuable to hide than the others. I'm sure if we keep looking for long enough something will turn up. Besides the fact that _knowing _how to kill one wasn't the problem. Unless you had an extremely gifted psychic on your side-" she smiled "-as you luckily do, you wouldn't be able to kill them. The psychic method was a commonly known method of killing or torturing prisoners of war in southernmost Kanto."

"One that works on the half human, half pokémon things?" Brock asked.

She shrugged. "I can't think of a thing it wouldn't kill. If you could muster a psychic stronger than Arceus I imagine you could bring that down as well."

Misty arched an eyebrow. "Cocky, aren't we?"

"I have every right to be." She grinned, a bit maliciously. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I have the kind of power that allows for a little bit of hubris. I try not to let it get the best of me, but, as you've seen my past, you are aware that it's quite difficult to keep it from doing so."

"But taking down Arceus? That's some kind of blasphemy," she shot back hotly.

"You know, I hate to say it, but I'd rather have an overconfident psychic than an underconfident one at this point," Ash interjected. "As long as you're planning on trying your hardest and not using half power on us."

She snorted, shaking her head. "Of course not. He's got more raw power than I could ever dream of."

"So how can your powers beat his?"

"They can't, not on their own. There are talismans, symbols you drawn in the Earth, and those limit his powers that, along with my own, can keep him trapped."

"He broke out of a trap filled with symbols," Misty argued, crossing her arms and liking the idea of enlisting Sabrina's help less and less.

"Were they made for hybrid psychics?"

"What do you mean?"

"Were they specifically made for half pokémon, half human creatures, or were they made for one or the other, either human or pokémon?"

"Does it make a difference?"

"Of course it makes a difference," she sniffed. "I wouldn't be asking otherwise."

Brock thought, rubbing his right temple. "But it was to hold in Alakazam. They were for pokémon, weren't they?"

Ash frowned. "For the most powerful Alakazam in history. That's some strong stuff."

"Doesn't matter. The type of psychic energy is different, the frequency of it. Humans have tighter waves than pokémon, and they tend to pulsate. The combination of the longer waves of the pokémon and pulsation of humans create something different enough that the symbol can't restrain it. If they aren't for a hybrid, it won't do a thing."

"And you have ones for hybrids?" the tanned boy insisted.

"Symbols are easy enough to replicate, but I don't have a talisman." She suddenly leaned forward, words coming out in a rush, "I think there's one in Pewter City. If you can get that, we can set the trap, and it should be over in a matter of minutes."

"Where is it?" Brock asked. "Because I've been all-"

She interrupted smiling even wider and her hands trembling gently in her lap. "On the third floor of the Pewter museum in a glass display case and an embarrassingly short description plaque which the audio tour doesn't even require you to stop for. Despite their apparent lack of attention to it, they refuse to lease it out for experimentation. One of the most fascinating archeological discoveries to waste and it rots in a museum."

The three exchanged looks before Ash said, "Sounds like you know a bit about it."

"Yes," she sulked, and her lips came into a pout that looked ridiculous on her harsh features. "Perhaps they'll listen to you."

"My mom doesn't believe me," Ash argued. "Why would they?"

Her head cocked to the side. "You don't think they will?"

"No. What can we do then?"

She giggled, an unnerving sound despite the pleasantness of it. "The logical course would be to steal it, and while you're there-"

"Y_ou're_?" Misty huffed. "Aren't you coming?"

"No, but about my payment-"

"Payment!" Brock cried. "I thought you were helping!"

"I am. However, I would like my services to be repaid in the form of a Luminescent Stone on display on the fourth floor of the Pewter Museum, which I believe may evolve certain psychic types, namely a Kadabra, without the use of a transfer machine, which is how you can occasionally find an Alakazam in the wild, and have been recorded to do so since long before the existence of the transfer machine."

Ash glared. "And why would we do this?"

"Because we'll all die, otherwise."

"And you're asking us to get you a stone on _top _of saving the world?"

She gave her horrifying giggle once more and said in a voice that was near lustful, "I believe the term is 'milking it'."

* * *

The Pewter City Museum was small compared to others Ash had seen in his travels. It was only two stories tall and he bet that, if they did have a basement to store the exhibits they weren't using, it would be very empty. There was too much space to walk around, too much detail put into the plaques of the fossils for them to ever be switched away. Despite that there was nothing but forest behind it, forest that was not protected and held no endangered life and most certainly didn't belong to anyone, the museum chose not to expand.

As it was, they seemed to be barely getting by on the money they had. A single attendant took money in exchange for tickets, people must bring their own headphones or buy a pair to listen to the audiotour, and one man named Steve prowled around, his name tag worn with age but spotless, seeming to make up both the security and the remainder of the staff. He looked to be in his seventies, albeit early seventies, and made no attempt to hide it. His hair was white, his glasses were thick, his hearing aide was hardly close to his skin tone, though it certainly matched someone's, and he had somehow decided that the sweatervest was the perfect match to any ensemble.

Steve quite enjoyed his job, because Steve liked museums. He had always been quite the history buff, and there was nothing he loved more than explaining to a child just how big that fossil would have been if it was alive today, and seeing their eyes go wide. He also loved that the place charged admission, which meant people didn't come in simply to mess around. Aside from the occasional mandatory school trip, the people who came to the museum came to look at the artifacts, and he never had to worry about kids asking him if his nose was running, and then shouting, "Well, you better go catch it!" like he knew many were liable to do.

So when the group of young adults, at least, two young adults and one teenager, considering how young the shortest boy looked, had called him over, laying one finger on the glass case and smiling, Steve had expected a question about what the talisman was, or an especially tricky word on the plaque, or even an educated question on where it was from, and most definitely note, "Sir, could we see that talisman?"

The old man blinked and stared and the young boy, clearly appalled that he would ask such a thing, and returned, "Son, this isn't a jewelry store."

He beamed, nodding, and his friends had turned away, not with giggles, Steve noted, but with a kind of shame that came from knowing when someone was about to do something especially stupid. Steve knew this because it was the same look Ken's wife had whenever Ken suggested they go out roller skating, just like they used to, despite the fact that Ken had a fake hip and a leg that never quite healed right. Whatever this boy was doing was from sheer stupidity, and not from a prank, so Steve decided he would be gentle with him.

"I know, but I really need to borrow it for a while," he said sincerely. "It's a life or death thing, actually. So if you don't give it to me, nothing's going to matter."

He leaned back on his heels and looked into that face, with cheeks round enough to seem fourteen and eyes old enough to look his age, and said, "Now, kid, I have to say that I'm a good judge of people, and I like you. I think you're a real good kid, and I think you really do need this. Maybe you got to save your girlfriend from an evil guy, I don't know. Weird shit happens in this region. You old enough that I don't have to apologize for swearing?"

Ash shrugged. "I don't mind."

"Good, well, here's the problem, kid. I don't-" He cut himself off, smiling. "What's your name?"

"Ash Ketchum, from Pallet Town."

He chuckled, clapping a shaky, arthritis ridden hand on his shoulder, "Well, Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town, I like you. I trust you. I think you and your friends over here would use this talisman real well and bring it back if you could, but I can't do that. See, it ain't mine, get it? I just work at this place. Sure, I can toss people out if they get too snappish and I can rearrange some of this stuff, but I can't just give things out to whoever walks in."

Ash nodded. "Alright, then who can we talk to?"

"Not a clue, Ashton."

"Just Ash," he corrected quickly. "That's my full name, Ash. And you really don't know who I can talk to? Because I'd really like to get that out of here as quick as I can, because this guy, and he is kinda evil, he wants to kill me and all my friends and probably the world after, if he's bored. If I use that, though, he'll just kill himself and we should be fine."

"Know what?" Steve asked.

"What?" Ash replied.

"I even believe you." He ruffled the boy's hair and laughed to himself. "Me n' Ken, we always used to joke around and say that all this magic stuff they were diggin' up and puttin' in our museum was going to get some weird prophecy kid comin' in here. Never thought it would happen. You look like a good kid, though, Ketchum. You almost look like a man. You look like you've been through some hard times, am I getting it right, Ash?"

Ash nodded again, this time a bit more slowly and a bit more uncertainly.

"Because I'm an old man, Ash, and I've seen a lot of things. I've been through a lot. I've seen a lot. Sometimes, I've been in this place and I'll hear some scientist say that they brought this fossil to life, or that they could get DNA from that amber, and sometimes I forget which things are magic and which things are science. It's part of being old, you know. Forgetting things." He eyed the boy carefully. "You'd be amazed at the things you forget."

He swallowed and nodded again.

"I never forget to lock up, you know. I always get that door locked. But sometimes, I forget I shouldn't tell people that there aren't alarms on the back doors, and that anyone with half a brain could pick that lock on the worker's entrance out back, and that the code's fourteen twenty nine to turn off that stupid buzzer that goes off whenever some kid trips into a case and I have to reset the damn thing and it take a good five minutes for it to start running again."

Ash stared for a moment, then asked, "Do you ever forget the code?"

"Raikou, Ash, it's fourteen twenty nine!" Misty snapped, giving his shoulder a hard pinch, and not stopping when he tried to flinch away. "The man's helping us and you can't even pay enough attention to remember a single four digit number?"

He pushed her hand off and smiled, looking at the man's nametag before blurting, "Thank you so much for your help, Steve. You don't know what it means to me. And the world. And there's one guy who's really not going to like this, but there's a few billion who will."

The redhead folded her arms and glared. "I hate you."

"You hate me because my plan worked," he argued, "and because you hate it that other people like me."

So Steve quite merrily went about his business, telling people about the museum and chatting with Wendy, who was the attendant out front and would always take the time to listen to him when they had their lunch, and even offered to get the lid on his thermos when she saw that his hands were shaking too much. Under her watchful eye he locked up the place, and in her blue rental car he was driven home, where his wife kissed his cheek and asked if he had a good day and had eaten all his lunch.

"I helped save the world today, Meredith," said Steve.

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded and said, "You want me to make the lamb special, then?"

* * *

They camped out that night. Brock went home to check on his siblings, and Misty and Ash, though receiving an offer to come along, opted to spread out on the grass near the exit of the town, where the land curved up just before it turned into mountains. Six dollars had gotten them a cheap, fleece blanket to lay on, and eight more had gotten them a terrible dinner of chips and dip, because neither quite felt like eating anything that could actually be construed as dinner, and, even if they did, their combined money wasn't enough to buy them anything more than a single plate of food or a pizza.

Misty sighed, resting her head on his shoulder as she stared up at the stars. "You know, when I was little, I thought the stars were little light bulbs. I would watch them all the time, and when they changed, you know, from spring to fall? I asked my mom why. She told me that it was because someone must have turned on the wrong light switch down at the star factory."

"I thought clouds were cotton candy," Ash supplied. "I didn't even know stars moved until I had to start getting ready for my journey."

She grinned, nudging him. "But here's the trick to it, I figured it out. I didn't just believe my mom about the star factory, because that didn't seem right. I saw the stars move. Not often. I wasn't a grade A astronomer, but I knew a constellation, one I made up, and I noticed that it kept moving. So I went and I got big books and I read and read and read until I found out that the stars were giant balls of hydrogen converting into helium and heavier elements millions and billions of miles away, and they moved because the earth moved, and there wasn't a star factory."

He laughed. "And how'd that last bit go over?"

"I cried because it meant I couldn't work in one when I grew up." She sighed, and Ash rolled away, laughing. She slapped him on the shoulder for getting such a kick out of it, and pushed, "But really, Ash, remember that. Kids aren't stupid, and they pick up on things quick. You can't outwit him. He's smarter than any of us, and he's had all the time in the world to work on it. But…_but_, he is a kid." She held up a finger. "He's an orphan who wants his mother, and kids get irrational. I cried over the fact that there wasn't any star factory. It was silly and stupid and I knew it, but I cried anyway."

"I don't get it."

"Dealing with emotion is something that comes with age. Kids can't do it. It's not about how smart they are, because their body makes them cry. Their brains haven't developed all the way yet. Those emotional parts of him can't be controlled. He's proved it time and time again with his little hissy fits."

"So?"

"He's got a weakness. He's put it in full display for you. Use it, Ash."

"How?" he insisted. "What's the plan?"

She shrugged. "That part's up to you and crazy ass doll girl."

"Some help you are."

"You want me to be the Chosen One? I'll steal your damn title, Ketchum." She jabbed him hard in the chest. "You go back to Pallet Town and _I'll _be the Chosen One and at the end of it all some hot guy is going to run up to me and we'll make out and I'll laugh because _you _could have had some hot girl all over you but you were too stupid to think of a plan."

He smirked. "I dunno. I haven't thought of a plan and I've got already got a hot girl all over me."

"My finger is poking your chest."

"Exactly."

"That's not all over you."

"You know, being together won't jinx anything," he said slowly. "I know you think it will, and that you get caught up in all that superstitious stuff, but if we're together, it doesn't mean I'm going to die. It just means that, if I do die, at least I had a girlfriend before I went. And possibly lost my virginity."

"First of all, no. We're not going to have sex before you of off to battle Hyacinth. I can only imagine that in your excitement to finally see a real live girl naked you'll have a heart attack and die and then we'll all be screwed. Second, who even says I want to be with you?" she said hotly, crossing her arms tight over her chest. "You're assuming I'm being all crazy and superstitious but maybe I'm just not that into you. Have you ever thought about that, Mr. Big Old Ego?"

"Are you?"

"That's not the point." She glared, knowing it was a terrible excuse and one that didn't make any sense and hoping that he hadn't caught that.

"It's the point I'm working on," he argued.

"Well, I'm not working on it. I'm sure as hell not working on it." She pulled her knees into her chest, rested her forehead on them, and shut her eyes. "Just because I liked you when I was ten doesn't mean I like you now. It doesn't mean I'll like you again. People change, you know. You're not the same person at twenty you were at ten. So someone being perfect for you then and perfect for you now is absolutely…it's stupid. It's a love story thing, a one in a million deal."

He smiled at that, bumping her gently. "I'm the Chosen One, though. I mess up all the odds."

"Not that much."

"But enough," he countered. "Right? I mean, you still like me. You went out and you lived your own life and you got another boyfriend and I made out with a couple girls who did some really weird stuff and one bit my tongue so hard I thought I'd bleed, but we came back. We grew apart but we came back and we liked who we grew into. We still cared about each other. Unless, you know, this has more to do with the fact that you had a boyfriend than, you know, other stuff."

"This has nothing to do with Aiden." She closed her eyes and breathed out shakily. "This has nothing to do with Tracey. This is about me and you and how…how I should have gotten over you. We should have moved on. We're not, and it's weird, and I don't know why."

He frowned. "Why is it weird?"

"Why we're back here!" she said furiously, one hand coming down to knot into the blanket. "Why am I ten again? Why am I in love with you when you're stupid and rash and in danger and away. Oh, Mew, Ash you're always so far away." She groaned. "I always worry about you because you're too damn far away."

"You don't have to. I'm fine." Then, realizing exactly how much of a lie that was, corrected, "I'm usually fine."

"Of course, you don't think I don't have to worry! You're the one out there!" she snapped. "But some of us have to stay behind and we worry because we can't help."

He rolled over on his stomach and grinned. "After this, I'll be ready to settle."

"Oh, please, I'm not ready to settle, but Mr. Adventure is?" She shoved his shoulder. "Don't even start with that."

"I'd settle down for you."

She rolled her eyes and sneered, "Alright, and while you're building our relationship on that, why don't you build our house on quicksand so we'll have something more stable to rely on."

He looked up at her, then sighed and agreed, "I won't settle down. I'm going to run all over the place and I don't know if I'm ever going to stop, because I don't ever want to stop. I want to be as old as Steve and still be running all over the place. I want to battle and I want to win and if I had everything I wanted, every so often I would run into a hot spring or a waterfall and you and I would have a sexy moment like the ones they have in movies."

She stared for a moment, then inquired, "Who the hell is Steve?"

"He works in the museum. He gave us the code."

"You sexy fantasies are pretty romantic," she said accusingly.

"I chose the ones that sounded best."

She stared and him for a long time, and, Ash being Ash, was quickly bored and rolled his eyes back to the stars, figuring out which way was north and seeing which constellations and stars he knew the name of, until a poke to his back brought him back to staring at her. "So, if we die, then none of this matters, and we're together and happy right before our brains explode right over everything, and I hope you go first because I don't want you to see my brains on the grass, because that's disgusting."

"I thought you weren't so shallow anymore, Mist?"

"But, if we live," she said, absently putting a hand over his mouth. "If we live, you have to go your way and I have to go mine. You want to be a Pokémon Master and, even though I like to travel, my place is at the gym, and I need to work hard to keep it running, and, maybe, one day, I'll finally get to go traveling, but that's a long, long way away. So, if we live, that whole romantic relationship thing is probably going to go down the gutter."

He rolled back onto his back and muttered, "Can we find a situation where I don't end up dying alone with Pikachu as my only companion?" Causing the mouse in question to give his tail a short swish to let him know that he certainly didn't need Ash saying his name when he was trying to get some sleep.

"If we never see each other again, we'll still have this." She leaned forward, lips hovering an inch away from his. "And I know that it's going to be hard and it might not work and that it might be a jinx and, if there's anything I don't want, it's to jinx you into getting hurt, but I think it's worth it. I think, if we try really hard and we can meet up enough until one of us has a major lifestyle change that this could work, and we could have all the waterfall sex we wanted."

He grinned. "So, does this mean I'm not going to die a virgin?"

"Oh, you're dying a virgin," she said seriously. "But you'll die a virgin who got to French kiss a Sensational Sister and possibly got some under the bra action, and I think that's being pretty generous considering we've never really gone farther than a peck, don't you?"

"Never lost that romantic spark, did ya, Misty?"

"Oh, shut up," she hissed.

Their lips crashed, dry and cracked from the weather and both of them tasting like salt and onion and sour cream, and mouths opened and tangled and hands knotted in hair and, most importantly, things were whispered. Things like, "I love you" and "you're beautiful" and "you're incredible" and "thank Mew you're here" were repeated and lost in a mess of teasing and sweet nothings and touch until Misty's phone buzzed, and they had to part.

"It's time to go." She flipped her phone shut and sighed. "Come on, we've got to go be Bonnie and Clyde."

"Five minutes."

She arched an eyebrow. "How come?"

He blushed, hugging his knees to his chest and glaring into the grass. "Because when you…your hips and…" His shoulders stiffened, struggling to keep his voice from squeaking with embarrassment. "When you did the circling thing."

She stared for a moment longer, then burst out laughing, falling back on the blanket and happy to hear his laugh joining hers, and leaned her head against his shoulder once more, staring straight up at the stars and listening to him breathe, just for a little while, and letting all the tension slide out of her. Soaking in the few moments before they had to roll over and move and steal and kill, and do all those things where the lines between good guys and bad guys started to blur.

"Hey, Mist, can a match box?"

"What?" She wrinkled her nose and stared at him.

"No, but a tin can," he replied, then grinned at the pun and nudged her in the side. "Any last jokes you need to get out? Because I think we have to be serious for a little while."

"A grasshopper walks into a bar and the bartender says, 'we have a drink named after you' and the grasshopper goes, 'you have a drink named Larry'?" She looked at him and nudged him, teasing, "Get it? Because they have a drink named grasshopper but the grasshopper's name is Larry."

"That was horrible," Ash said.

Then they laughed until it turned into giggles, and those giggles turned into quiet. They folded up the blanket and Ash gathered up the food, nudging Pikachu awake so he could climb up onto the stable shoulder Ash always had for him, and they walked until they found a dumpster to toss their leftovers in. Then they walked to the museum and they looked at Brock, and Brock looked back, and Ash thought about asking him whether he had one last joke because he bet that Brock had gotten it all out with his brothers and sisters and mother and father, and if Ash had been just a little bit softer that night, he probably would have cried because he hadn't seen his mother.

But Ash had kissed Misty until his world spun. He'd made terrible jokes. He'd eaten scones with a psychic and he'd chatted with an old man who believed him without even asking for the details, and the whole situation was so ridiculous that he'd been satisfied. He'd gotten his smiles and his laughs and that incredible time when he wasn't quite sure what he had, but he knew that it was more than a friend and it was something that both of them planned to have for quite a long time, if they made it out.

But they had to make it out first. So Ash took all of the good things and he wrapped them up tight, and he pushed them all down, because he had things to do. As much as he hated it, he had a boy to kill and rocks to steal and a terrible plan to make where he made a person kill himself, and he couldn't tell jokes and he couldn't have his kiss when he did that. Ash Ketchum had to be a hero when he did those heroic things.

But he wondered when being a hero had turned into this.

* * *

I love Steve. And next chapter should be the last! I hope you enjoyed the ride!


	16. The Deceptions

You know, I think this one took as long as it did, just because I don't think I wanted it to end the way it did. And, in another sense, I felt like you guys, my readers, wouldn't want it to end like this either. With how this story has been, in some ways I feel like there should have been explosions and gunfights, and an action scene to end all action scenes. I think I kind of wanted to end it cheesey too, with some sort of romantic nothing between Misty and Ash, and their world being happy and perfect.

But I don't think it should end that way. I'd like it to, but I don't think it should. I don't think this story is supposed to end perfect, or supposed to be a Michael Bay action sequence put to paper. I think it's supposed to be the way it is.

So, I know it's going to be weird, my dear readers. I know that, no matter what you expected, this isn't going to be it. It has twists and turns and it's not even entirely what I expected it to turn into. Before you read, if you could do me one last favor? For the sake of giving this story the chance it deserves, without its stupid author waiting too long and building up expectations ridiculously high?

Close your eyes. Think of everything you wanted this ending to be.

Now shake all of that off, and read.

* * *

**The Deceptions**

It was weird how the more they needed to be quiet the louder they sounded. Three sets of feet on soft grass sounded like a herd of tauros stampeding on stone, and it was all Ash could do not to yell at them to be quiet. They were trying, of course. They all were, but none of them were practiced thieves, as evidenced by Ash's own bright red hat, Misty's yellow shirt, and the orange tee Brock was wearing. If anyone came along, they were screwed for sure. So he was understandably twitchy, looking this way and that while Brock fiddled with the padlock, visibly flinching every time it touched the door.

"Breathe, Ash," Brock chuckled. "The Pewter Police Department is way more concerned about the drug smuggling from Viridian than whatever's in the museum. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if most of them didn't even know we had a museum."

"It's like sneaking into your school after it closed, or sneaking out of the house without waking your parents up. You must have done something like that back in Pallet, didn't you, Ash?" Misty whispered, nudging him softly, drawing his attention back from the lock.

He grinned weakly. "Not really."

"Didn't you break any rules?" she pressed.

"I didn't have that many. Don't hurt anyone, don't steal, and don't play near the cliffs." He shrugged slightly, remembering how his mother would grab him on his way out the door, and tell him those three rules before letting him rush outside with Gary and some other Pallet townies. "As long as I had a flashlight and no school the next day, Mom didn't care if I stayed out until the sun came up. It was different in Pallet."

She arched an eyebrow. "And you never played on the cliffs? Not even once?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then think of this like the cliffs," she urged. "You're not supposed to, and it's dangerous, but it's not that bad. Anyone who gets hurt is only getting hurt financially, and whoever owns this place is probably rich anyway, so it barely matters. It's just like the cliffs. Think of it like that." She squeezed his shoulder softly and smiled at him.

He scowled, not pushing her hand off, but thinking about doing so. "Police didn't arrest you for playing on the cliffs."

"And here you can't fall to your death. I said it was like the cliffs, Ash, not that it _was_ the cliffs."

"You know, the door is still locked," Brock pointed out patiently. They didn't look his way, and he sighed, dropping to his hands and knees to check for a key under rocks or hidden in the grass, because he certainly didn't know how to pick a lock. He grumbled as he went, "Don't we have stuff to get? A world to save? Oh, no, Brock, you can do it. We're just going to argue like a pair of toddlers."

They were getting louder instead and now Ash did shake her off, face reddening as his temper rose. "I don't want to go to jail."

"Then don't get caught!"

He drawled, "Oh, _great_ plan."

"Do you two want to argue later?" Brock snapped, lurching to his feet after finding his key search useless. "I don't want to go to jail either, so we've got to get in and out before the museum opens, and with the way you two argue, I don't know if you'll be done in time. So how about we finish this up before the world ends?"

Ash was still shaking his head, looking more and more nervous by the second. "We shouldn't do this."

"We _have_ to," Misty hissed.

"But this isn't right!" he cried, not whispering, not speaking, but crying at the thought of it. "There has to be another way to do this. There has to be one where I don't steal and I don't have to kill a little kid! I mean, I'm stealing from a _museum_. This is what supervillains do in old Batman shows! Good people don't steal from a museum! Heroes don't steal from a museum! I mean, even if they do they don't do it to pay off some psychopath to help kill a _little boy_!"

"Can't you have morals at a more convenient time?" she muttered icily.

"I can't do it."

"You _have_ to!"

"There's another way!"

"There _is_ no way!"

"There has to be!"

She slapped him, right across the cheek and glared, fuming, as he held the spot with his mouth wide open. She ripped his hand away and glared at the red spot, almost angry that he had allowed her to hurt him. "It has to be done. You think I like this? You think I want him dead? I held him, Ash. He cried against me. He was little, and he looked like you, and I held him. I don't want him dead, but it has to happen. There's no way around this."

"There's always a way. You can…we could talk and…"

She shook her head softly. "We have to kill him. There's no talking, Ash."

"_I_ have to kill him." He swallowed, trembling. "It's always me."

"It's we," Brock promised. "We'll be there."

It was painfully obvious that Ash didn't believe this. Whether he denied it because he doubted his friends in their ability or their courage, neither Brock nor Misty knew. However, his silent nod meant that he wasn't going to change his mind about it anytime soon. And, in the end, they weren't quite sure what to say, because it _was_ always Ash. He was the one who destroyed the bad guys, rescued the pokémon, did the hero's job. They helped, of course they did. But they didn't throw the finishing blow.

"So," Brock asked, looking back and forth between them, swallowing thickly and the ever present tension in the group. "I don't suppose either of you ever took a course in lock picking when you were growing up, did you? Or should I see if Geodude can rip the lock straight off?"

"Three older sisters," Misty said, stepping forwards and rustling through her red, drawstring bag for what she needed, metal wires she never left home without. "I've been breaking into all kinds of locks since I learned how to read. If I can't do it in ten minutes, it's all yours."

Ash frowned at that. "Give it twenty."

"Why? No point in wasting time. If I can't get it in ten minutes, just let Brock rip it off."

"Lock picking is a lot quieter," Ash insisted, eyes narrowing.

"We're not going to get caught," she said, slamming a hand against the door and making both of the boys jumped. "I don't know if you've noticed, but the cops in Pewter have a lot more to worry about than the museum. Nothing in here is worth any money and any troublemaker who did manage to steal something is going to get caught trying to cash it at the bank. Pewter isn't famous for jewel thieves."

Now it was Brock's turn to frown. "Could we stop trashing my town?"

"If you keep saying we're not gonna get caught, you're going to jinx us."

Brock snorted. "There's no such thing as a jinx."

Both teens stopped, staring at Brock with open mouthed horror, and Brock remembered who he was talking to. Misty, who carried around a number of good luck charms from religions she did and did not belong to, who avoided cracks like the plague and fervently believed that the day a person was born affected every aspect of their lives, including their personality. And then there was Ash, who had seen a legendary on the first day of his journey, and countless more afterwards. Ash, who had been the focal point of a prophecy which even included his name. Ash, who had, at one point, turned into a Pikachu by a witch's spell gone wrong. If there was ever a pair who would believe in jinxes, it was them. And even Brock understood, the greatest jinx was saying there were no jinxes, and that if their plan hadn't been doomed before, it was most certainly was now that they feared an oncoming jinx.

"I didn't mean that," Brock said, holding up his hands. "I just meant tha-"

"I'm going to die," Ash said hollowly.

Misty, forgetting herself, rushed over to kiss Ash on the cheek and murmur, "It's alright, I'm got a four leaf clover in my pocket," before striding back up to the door and leveling a cold glare at Brock. She was so concerned with the idea of being jinxed, that she didn't notice Brock's stare at the sudden romance between his friends which, yes, he had suspected, but hadn't ever confirmed, and certainly hadn't expected it in a time of crisis.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked, looking at Ash rather than Misty, who had already started sticking her tools in the lock. Ash, who was far too nervous about breaking into the museum, didn't answer him, serving to make Brock even more confused. He walked up to Ash and shook him a little, drawing his attention away from the museum. "Since when have you and Misty been all…all kissing and romantic?"

Ash blinked. "We're not romantic at all."

"You know what I mean."

He thought for a moment, trying to tune out Misty's quiet swears as she fidgeted with the lock, the thing constantly clicking at her and sending a light shower of rust into her lap. Then he shrugged, and as if it wasn't anything new, explained, "I think it happened earlier today, but it might have happened a while ago. I don't know. Is that bad?"

Brock gawked for a moment longer, then settled with his back against the museum. After a few minutes, Ash joined him, and they both watched Misty attempt to undo the lock, though the progress was slow, if there was any, and it was louder than expected. So much so, that before ten minutes had passed, Ash's nerve gave out and he pulled Misty back, allowing the older boy to use his geodude to rip the lock from the worker's hallway, the door swinging open with a thick, musty smell.

"So we have to find the code, right?" Ash asked. "We have to punch in the code and-"

"Fourteen twenty nine," Misty said quickly, and when the boys glanced at her, she blushed at her intensity and ducked her head, quietly whispering fourteen twenty nine over and over, to be sure she wouldn't forget. The museum was silent, so they could easily hear her, but neither commented as she repeated, "One four two nine," again and again, right up until they found the system about the microwave in the work room.

They let her punch it in, and it beeped so loud that Ash let out a little yelp of horror, jumping straight up and making a very unhappy Pikachu tumble to the ground. The little mouse zapped his ankle to let his displeasure be known. Each of his friends snapped at him in turn, scolding him for his noise even though they were already inside, and the risk of being heard was far, far lower now. It was during their scolding that the machine beeped again, and they all stared at it.

"What was that?" Ash asked.

Brock winced. "It takes it five minutes for it to get up again."

"So, we have to do this in five minutes?" The boy looked back and forth between them. "We have to go upstairs, get to glass cases up, take the stuff inside, and set it all down without breaking it in five minutes? We can't _do_ that."

"I'll stay here," Misty said.

"And what good'll that do?"

"I can hit the button, you idiot!" she growled. "Take your watch with you. When five minutes are up, don't touch anything for a few seconds so I can punch it in again, and then you have five more minutes. I can do that as many times as we need until you get your stuff out. You have plenty of time."

"That's too risky! If we get the timing wrong, it'll beep. And what if you punch it in slower than we think, and then we set it off? Or what if-?"

Misty crossed her arms coldly. "You have nine minutes. The first five, then wait ten seconds, then go for four minutes, so you can be sure it won't go off if I did it a few seconds early. If you need more time than that, come down, and we'll do it again. Do you get the plan? Do you think you can handle this?"

"But that's only nine minutes!" he cried. "How many times will we have to do it?"

Brock clapped Ash on the back, the boy stumbling a bit when Brock hit him too hard. "We've got it, Misty. The two of us can get this done in nine minutes no problem. We're not going to set off the alarm, we're not getting caught by the police, and we're going to save the world. Think you can handle that, Ash? You done way more complicated stuff before, haven't you?"

He gulped and nodded. They planned, and realizing the only watch any of them had was Ash's pokedex, used that to know when to stop and start. Misty punched in the numbers, and the boys raced through the museum, rushing up the stairs and searching for what they needed. It was strange how completely different it all looked in the dark. They stumbled over little imperfections in the floor that they hadn't noticed in the daytime, bumped against unlit cases, using Ash's light up screen on his pokedex to look inside, seeing where they were and which direction they needed to go.

"Don't you have a flashlight?" Brock asked, watching Ash press the pokedex face down on the glass.

"One of us went home," Ash reminded. "One of us had the time to get a flashlight."

"I was busy with my family. I forgot. You could have gone to the store and got one if you really needed it."

"I don't have any money."

"Well, you could have come over to my house and then you wouldn't have for-"

Ash held up his hand and slammed it over Brock's mouth immediately. The pokedex clattered on the glass as he used the other hand to drag the man down, gesturing wildly at the strange rock illuminated in the case. It was smaller than his fist and a deep pink, and, somehow, seemed to only be half there. It was nearly transparent, looking like a flash of pink light, that if he grabbed at it his hand would pass right through. It was a perfect sphere though, completely smoothed edge, and the small plate proclaimed that it had been found that way, not carved.

"I found the stone thing Sabrina wanted," Ash explained, taking his hand away from Brock's mouth. "At least, I think that's it. That's what she said it was called, right? It's a Luminescent Stone? The creepy, magic light stone?"

"She said it was a luminescent stone. If they marked it wrong, she can't blame us. I don't think she'd end the whole world just because we brought back the wrong stone." Brock hesitated, then looked at Ash, who quite worriedly looked back at him, and Brock shuddered a bit. "Well, we don't have that much time, anyway. Not enough to talk. So we'll just get it now and then we'll run out of here and hope for the best."

Ash nodded. "How do we move the case?"

"There's no key or anything," Brock said, his fingers sliding around the edge. "I think we can just pick it up and it'll come right out. We'll have to be careful setting it down, though. We don't want to break anything we don't have to."

"Back up for a second," Ash advised, relaxing as he put a good two get between himself and the glass. "It's almost five minutes. We should have enough time to get it out and take it down to Misty before the second reset. Then we can do the second reset and get the plate or whatever the hell we're supposed to be getting so we can trap Hyacinth. Sound good?"

Brock shrugged, and they waited for the pokedex clock to click over, marking the end of five minutes, then counted very slowly to ten before edging forward to the case. Brock went to one of the short shides, and Ash went to the other, and on the count of three they lifted the case off, setting it down on the ground very, very gently, and then grabbing the Lumiescent Stone. Ash tucked it in his pocket, letting Pikachu bump his nose at it, sniffing it deeply.

"Do you think that's the right one?" Ash whispered to the mouse. Pikachu shrugged, and Ash sighed, going back to put the glass case on the platform. He would have to hope for the best, hope it was the right one, and that if it wasn't Sabrina wasn't so crazy as to let the world end over it. It was harder keeping the glass unbroken on the way up, especially as they tried to shift it into the right slot, and it fell in with a startling bump.

Brock and Ash immediately ran their hands all over, Ash also holding up the pokedex to check for any hairline cracks. It seemed smooth, and they leapt back just before the next four minutes were up, making sure the alarm wouldn't come back on. They were turning down the stairs, when Brock grabbed Ash's shoulder, and whispered, "Don't bump into anything, or the alarm is going to go off. Take out your pokedex and watch your step."

He did, and they made it back to Misty, Ash taking out the stone and holding it under the pokedex screen. She took it from him, sliding it into her bag, and turned back to the keypad to give them another ten minutes. This time, Pikachu stayed with Misty, hoping he could at least give her some comfort since he couldn't help the boys upstairs. She pet him gently, being as quiet as she could so she wouldn't miss the beep, when a shattering sound happened upstairs, and the boys came down the stairs, the pokedex off and looking nervous.

Her eyes widened. "What the hell happened?"

"I dropped the case," Ash blurted.

"You what?"

"I dropped the case! The glass shattered! And any second now the alarm is going to go off!" he cried, panicking. "I'm sorry I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to. And I knew it, I knew that this was wrong and that it was going to go wrong and that-"

"It doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head. "You have the talisman, you have the Luminescent Stone. We're driving back up to see Sabrina now, and we're getting this done as quick as we can. When this is over, we'll sneak back to the museum and leave the stuff in the worker's longue. Steve will have his stuff, the museum just needs to buy a glass case, and they probably won't take the time to do a full investigation if they got all the stuff back."

Ash swallowed. "I have gloves. They can't get fingerprints off it if I'm wearing gloves, can they?"

Misty was about to say something cruel, looking down at his fingerless gloves, when Brock stepped up and nodded, patting Ash on the back much more gently than he had before. "No, Ash. They can't get any fingerprints off of it. If anyone gets in trouble, it'll be me, and all I'll have to do is pay for the case."

"But _I _dropped it," Ash said weakly. "You shouldn't have to pay for it."

"Then you can help me pa-"

The alarm blared overhead and they all winced. Pikachu climbed up on Ash's shoulder. Misty grabbed the talisman and shoved it into the bag. Then the three of them fled out into the woods behind the museum, running until they couldn't run any further, and collapsing in pine needles that came from the trees that cluttered the base of the northwest mountains. Misty checked, just once, that both the stone and the talisman were where they were supposed to, before falling back with a calm sigh.

"We did it," she said, holding the bag perpendicular to her as she lay on her back, grinning. "We've got the stuff. All we need now is to get Sabrina's help, and the rest will be a piece of cake."

Ash glared. "It will not be a piece of cake."

She let the bag fall with a groan. "Fine, a piece of a thermonuclear weapon. That's how easy it'll be. But at least we got part of it done."

"How do we get to Saffron?" Brock asked. "I can't go back for my car."

Misty rolled onto her side, tugging Ash's pokedex from his pocket, and calmly typing in. "Well, if this thing gets wireless-"

"It doesn't have internet."

She glared. "How the hell do you think it sends back the information to Oak, Ash? Or downloads _new _information?" She shook her head at his ignorance, then went back to her business, typing things in. "Well, I'll make up an entry that'll go to Oak, telling him we're stuck in the woods and we had an appointment with Sabrina. He gets the coordinates from out pokedex, calls Sabrina, and Sabrina can psychically pop over to Saffron in no time flat."

"Do you think she can do that?" Ash asked. "I mean, I know she's powerful, but, that's really far, and she'd have to do _all_ of us. Even for her, that has to be hard."

"She can make as many trips as she needs," Misty countered hotly. "Until she starts helping us, she's not getting the Luminescent Stone, and _you _guys have the pokémon to keep her from just taking it."

"You don't have any?" Ash inquired.

"I have starmie, but that's not enough to hold her off. You guys have the real fire power." She scowled. "He caught me unprepared. I usually have a full team with me, and then they took me to Pallet without packing my bag."

"What could you do with pokémon in a coma?" Brock pointed out calmly. "He caught all of us unprepared. I was keeping my pokémon in the center, just like Dawn, and who knows what the others were doing when they were caught. He did a good job planning."

"I don't feel safe."

Ash snorted. "If you had your strongest you wouldn't be safe."

"But I'd _feel_ safe."

"That's stupid, he mumbled.

"So are you."

Brock sat up, eyeing the two of them and thinking about asking them what the sudden romance was between them. They looked nervous, though, and he figured they had bigger things to worry about than love lives, and asked instead, "Do you think we should sleep? You know, in case he…"

"He wants a fair fight," Ash said calmly. "He's not going to kill us in our sleep. He's not going to steal the talisman. He probably won't even talk to us."

Misty giggled, shaking her head. "_Could _you sleep?"

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I'll just sleep. I'll take a nap before the psychic takes us to kill the creepy little boy. Let's take a little nap." She giggled harder, burying her head in her hands. "I'm sure sleeping is the right thing. Let's surf the web while we wait! We can look at pictures of babies and find their weak spots, you know, just to prepare."

"You can cry, you know," Ash said seriously. "If you need to, you can cry."

Her giggles slowed, and she stopped them with a weak grin. "No. I won't be able to stop if I do. And then…then I might do something stupid. Because I hate myself so much. I hate myself and Hyacvinth and the whole damn world for letting this happen and for never stopping it after it happened, and I hate Sarbina for making us steal, and I hate you. Mew, Ash, I hate you for being you."

"But don't you love him?" Brock blurted.

Misty grinned. "Oh, sure I do. Doesn't mean I can't hate him at the same time, right? What about you, Ash? Do you say to fuck the world and everyone in it? No." She frowned for a moment before the smile returned. "Fuck the world and every_thing _in it. _Every_thing."

Ash nodded immediately. "Yeah."

"Do you love me?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me dead to?" She punched his shoulder. "And you better tell the truth."

He thought, staring up at the stars, and said without a trace of guilt, "I want you dead too."

She giggled, just once, and closed her eyes. "We're both crazy then, Ash. We've both gone crazy."

"I do love you, though," he promised, utterly forgetting that Brock was on his left, stunned into silence.

"Of course you do. Of course _I_ do. And Brock and May and Max and everyone but Hyacinth, everyone loves someone. No, some_thing_." She cocked her head to the side in the grass. "Everyone but Hyacinth. Everyone loves something."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Hating it and loving it, that's what makes us crazy. That's why he's so damn good."

There was a silence, and Brock asked, "So you're not going to try and destroy the world?"

"No," Ash snorted. "Weren't you listening? We _said _we were crazy. Crazy people never destroy the world."

* * *

Ash was woken by a foot jabbing him in the side, painfully, and opened his eyes to see Sabrina glaring down at him, arms crossed. His eyes travelled down to her foot, the one she had just kicked him with, which was now tapping impatiently against the ground. His mother had often struck the same pose, usually after he had done something like getting them kicked out of the zoo, or getting a call from the teacher because "pokémon masters don't need math" wasn't the answer to what is three times six.

"You better have the Luminescent Stone," she said, almost shaking. "I said I wanted payment. I won't help you if you don't have it. You'll have to go back and get it. I don't care how long it takes or if Hyacinth destroys the world. I won't do it if you don't get me the Luminescent Stone."

He blinked up at her for a few minutes, then said. "Misty said that you're not allowed to have it until you teleport all of us to Saffron, not even if you have to do several trips. And if you try and take it, Brock and I are supposed to fight you because she doesn't have the pokémon to do it."

"We aren't going to Saffron," she said, relaxing at the knowledge that they had her prize in hand. "If you want to get at him, you'll want to do it in Pallet. The easiest place to cage him is going to be the place where he was made. The closer you get, the stronger the cage will be. There should still be some remnant of that ditch where they kept Alakazam. It might be run down a bit, but it should be there. Big, round, draws a lot of attention. There probably isn't any wildlife around there, not pokémon nor animals and not a single person for at least a mile. Do you know a place like that?"

His eyes closed and he raced through Pallet. He left his house and ran down to the beach. He sifted through the sand and tossed seashells into the ocean, then he raced to the woods and found all his favorite hiding spaces. There was an abandoned nest under a bush, just big enough for a little kid to slide down inside. There was a blueberry bush that he always got caught by in the summer, because he always had to stop and try some. He raced through wide meadows with grass that brushed up to his nose. He took Gary's dare and, even so cautiously, slipped out into that haunted place, the stay away place, the-

"Cliffs." His eyes opened, and he felt her eyes bore into his head, probably prodding around to see where it was, and not bothering to complain about the invasion of his privacy. "Nothing ever grows around there, and nothing lived there. All the parents told us to stay away from it, even though it wasn't really that deep, and all the kids thought it was haunted. We would always dare who could go closest, and no one ever reached the edge, or tried to get inside it."

Sabrina grinned at that, and he was sure she had dug around to find the perfect place. "That would be a good spot. Are you ready to go?"

"Now?" he asked, sitting up sharply. He hadn't noticed Misty's head on his chest, and she tumbled to the ground, swearing slightly as she was awakened in a way almost as rude as Ash. He ignored her, pressing Sabrina, "Are you ready to do everything now? Don't you need time?"

"Others might," she sniffed coldly. "I certainly don't. I've been studying this for _years_. I'm _always _prepared for something like this."

Misty rubbed her head, sitting up slowly and groaning. "Fine, fine, you're amazing. If we're going to get it done, can we just get it _done? _Maybe finish up in time for lunch?"

"If you do it right we will," Sabrina promise.

"You mean if _we _do it right."

"No, I mean you. There's no question that I'm going to do it right. You are going to defeat Hyacinth, Ash. Then you are going to give me the Luminescent Stone, and I will study it. And then, this evening, I will make cookies, and you are all invited to try them. I think I have greatly improved in the baked goods department."

Misty elbowed Ash, whispering. "Is this a dream, or is she really this cocky?"

In response, Ash gave her arm a sharp pinch, making her yelp and leaving her with a bruise. While his lover grumbled and rubbed at the sore spot, Ash got to his feet and nodded. "Alright, so once we get to Pallet, what exactly are we going to do? I mean, what am I going to do? How do I get him into this weird trap thing? Do I have to lure him with candy or…?"

"Luring him is the only way you're going to get close with the kind of powers he has. I certainly don't have a psychic that can match him, and I doubt that even your pokémon are going to have power to rival that. I doubt the Elite have a pokémon with power to rival that." She arched an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you can think of something that might be a little more alluring than candy? Some kind of prize he's been pining after?"

Ash shook his head. "Aside from me, I can't think of anything he wants. And I don't think that he's going to walk up to me if I'm standing in the middle of nowhere, asking him to walk up to me. I mean, even I'd be kind of suspicious about that."

"Misty," Brock said softly. He kept his eyes down on his knees, continuing, "He thinks of Misty as a mother. He wants her. I think he wants her bad enough that…that if we used her to bait him, that he wouldn't even think about the risks. I think he might just run out to her. I think he…I think, if there's a way, that we could move Misty before it closes, that we could use her as…she could be the bait, I think. It's not a good situation, but, I mean, it's got to work better than-"

"We're not using Misty as bait," Ash snorted. "If anything went wrong, even if we could get her out of the way, Hyacinth could kill her. He could…he could do anything to her! It takes a few seconds. He could drive her crazy or…or do that creepy thing that the Alakazam did, with eating her brain and making her head explode. I mean, he could probably do that quicker than you could get the trap up, right?"

Sabrina nodded. "For certain, but if he's as smitten with her as it sounds, I can't imagine why he'd try to destroy her. I doubt she'd be in any danger, especially since I could get the shield up long before he could do any physical damage, though psychological is questionable."

"You _doubt_ she'd be in any danger! Do you remember that thing where he kidnapped all my friends to torture us inside our own heads, and _killed _my infernape?"

"But what if it's our only shot, Ash? We don't have better bait than me." Misty suggested quietly, sliding her hand into his. "If he wants me, why don't we try and bait him with it? If he hurts me, well, I don't think it'll be that bad. I mean, nothing that therapy won't fix, right?"

"Actually, if he's that good he can probably destroy you mentally. It'll leave a clear trace, and I could probably undo most of it after a few years of intense therapy." She frowned. "It would take thousands of dollars of expensive therapy, and there's no guarantee it'll work, but it's very likely that you'd only have minor side effects for the rest of your life, probably developing as an anxiety disorder or possibly clinical depression."

"Sabrina!" Misty snapped. "You aren't helping!"

"You shouldn't _lie _to him," she argued stiffly. "Especially after how you two talked the other night. Lying is no way to start a relationship."

"You read his mind?"

She countered, "He invited me in."

"None of that matters!" Ash shouted. "We're not…we're not using Misty as _bait_. We're not letting her get psychological damage, possibly for the rest of her life, with the best option being that she'll either be depressed or anxious until the day she dies! We're not doing that!"

"We?" she said icily. "There is no _we_. You can reject the plan if you don't think it's going to work, but if I want to do this and I'm willing to make the sacrifice, then you don't have a choice about that. You don't get to choose what _I _do. I don't care if we get married and have a million kids, _I'm_ the one who gets to choose what I do, never you."

"That's not what I'm saying," he argued. "I'm just saying-"

"That _is _what you're saying. You're saying it for the right reasons, and you're worried, and I appreciate that you care, but unless you have a better way to do this, I'm going to be the bait." Her gripped tightened on his hand. "I don't _want _to do it. If you can come up with a way that I don't have to do this, I'll be much happier. So if you've got a plan in your head, come up with it and keep me a little bit safer."

He squeezed her hand back and thought, his mind racing. He thought of faking a wound to lure him close, of really wounding himself to draw Hyacinth close. He thought about what pokémon were strongest, and if they had a chance against the boy. He thought about guns and bombs and all sorts of wild things that he'd ever heard of, and one by one his ideas were blown aside. Hyacinth would be able to tell if there was an injury. Hyacinth would not hesitate to kill him, or read his mind if the injury was real. His pokémon would be crushed. Bullets would be swept sideways. And though he felt like, somehow, a big enough bomb could do the trick, he didn't know where to get one, and doubt he had the ability to steal one.

And then, that True Hero voice came back, and it whispered, _He has to die, and she's the way._

"Anything, Ash?" Misty asked. When he didn't respond, too shocked by the thought that had somehow crept into his head, she nodded slightly. "Alright, then I'm going to be the bait. Where do we go from here?"

Sabrina scowled. "Pallet. I already said we're going to Pallet."

"I mean, what do _we _need to do?"

"First of all, we need to get to Pallet. It's only a little leap. If you do it right, I should be able to get all of us in one trip. So, keep your mind blank, or just think about Pallet. Not a place, because you've never been there and you'll mess us up, just the _idea _of Pallet. Don't think about any other place. You either won't go or, worst case scenario, you're torn apart and half of you will go to wherever you're thinking about."

On that light note, she urged them to all hold hands, telling Pikachu to press his nose on Ash's neck so there was certain skin to skin contact. Sabrina told them to shut their eyes, again warned them about thinking of anything other than Pallet, and threw in something at the end about her not being very good at teleporting others so it would feel like, "having a seizure while on a very large, very fast roller coaster"; which made Ash's eyes snap open and stare at Sabrina in horror, right before experiencing the most horrifying feeling of his life.

He had been teleported before, by those special tabs on the floor, that made him a bit dizzy and felt like the ground had fallen out from under him. However, that had been for a split second, for a couple of feet. To go to Pallet, not only did the ground seem to fall out from under him, but every part of him seemed to hum and vibrate, while the whole of him felt like it was being whipped around. With his eyes open, there was blinding light that somehow spun and made him dizzy, so when he was on solid ground, he immediately threw up.

Of course, that little voice in the back of his head, saying, _he has to die, and she's the way _wasn't helping to settle his stomach.

Sabrina looked at the heaving boy, watching his friends rush to his side, and muttered, "I told you to close your eyes for a reason." Misty's bag was left unattended by the red head's side, and, without her permission, the woman shuffled through it, taking the Luminescent Stone and putting it in her bra, then grabbing the talisman and stepping away reading the old runes and practicing saying the old words out loud before setting it gently on the ground.

They were in a clearing, to the west was the cliffs, looking manmade, though millennia old, with the rock worn smooth though still clearly cut. It tumbled down and stretched for a mile or so, before scooping back up in a wide oval. No plants grew for a good ten feet around the edge, and the area that they stood in now seemed strangely lush next to the barren land just beyond. There was a clearing of grass, surrounded by trees and bushes and flowers, and Sabrina began to scuff in the ground, making a barely visible circle in the grass. Then she kneeled and set the talisman at one section of the circle, ripping up grass and surrounding it to make a nest.

"Misty?" she called, but the girl was huddled by Ash, still rubbing his back and telling him calming things, while, in the same breath, telling him off for being so stupid. Sabrina called again, not entirely comfortable with human contact yet and therefore not willing to touch her, "Misty? You need to come here. I need to make sure this won't trap you as well. Your psychic signature has to be keyed in."

Ash wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiled. "Go ahead. I'm fine."

"You sure?" she asked worriedly. He nodded and elbowed her slightly, so she jumped up and darted over to Sabrina. "What does my psychic…whatever, mean? Do you have go poking around my head for it?"

"I only have to touch your mind. I don't have to look at anything, if that's what you're asking." She pulled the girl to kneel with her, near the talisman. One hand rested on the Misty's temple, the hand icy and making the girl stiffen, while the other hand went down to the talisman, her thumb smoothing over the carvings and pumping invisible psychic energy into it. The talisman soaked it in greedily, snatching at Sabrina's psychic powers and at the tendrils that Misty had, just enough to make her _conscious_, so that Sabrina broke away earlier than she would have liked, afraid the talisman would suck the redhead dry.

The girl could only stand the strange feeling for so long, and the second she felt Sabrina's hand move away, she jumped to her feet and scrambled away. She did try a little to conceal her fear, rushing to Ash's side like she was merely concerned for him, and not frightened by the psychic power and being so close to the woman who had once turned her into a doll. To their credit, neither Brock nor Ash nor even Sabrina said anything about it.

"What do you need me to do, then?" Misty asked, rubbing Ash's back, though his heaving had stopped a long time ago. "Do I just…I just sit there, right? And eventually Hyacinth will come up to me. And you'll say a magic word or something?"

Sabrina shook her head. "_I _have done everything I can for trapping him. It is Misty's job to lure him. Ash, your job is to seal the cage. You are his blood relative, and as such, you must bleed on the stone to activate it. Once that happens, he'll be sealed, and I can go about finishing him off."

"I have to what?" he asked.

"Give the order," she explained calmly, entirely misinterpreting his question. "He has to be mindstripped – to take away every layer of protection the mind has from the outside world, so he can feel everything that thinks. The sensation is overwhelming, it drives all mad, and it's doubtful he will manage to stand it for more than a few minutes before he finally kills himself. Though it's easy for a psychic outside of himself to fix, no psychic can repair themselves once those barriers are broken down."

Ash swallowed weakly, not enjoying the reminder of what he was about to do. "I…I meant about the blood."

"Bleed on it. If you don't have anything sharp, have Pikachu bite you. It only takes a drop." She shrugged. "You have to get out quick enough so he won't leave the circle, get your blood on the stone, and, preferably, get Misty out of the way just in case I put more power into the stone than I should have."

"Can't you take the energy out?" he asked.

"The only way it gives is through the shield. Otherwise, it simply sucks. I could barely hold back as it was."

"It's just my blood? I mean, if we had, like, a vial or something, it would work?"

"Blood is blood," she said calmly. "As long as it's yours."

Ash pet Pikachu on his head, holding out his hand and saying, "Can you get blood?" His ears went back, tail drooping, not liking the idea of biting Ash, but nevertheless he leaned forward and digging his teeth into the meat of his hand. The boy winced and his hand twitched, but he tried to keep still as the mouth bit harder, until the blood welled up, and Pikachu spat at the horrifying, coppery taste, wiping his tongue on the grass.

Then he took Misty's hand, the one with the Cascade badge still burned deep into it, and pressed the wound to the mark. He smeared the blood across her hand, and she gawked, open mouthed as he did, too shocked to pull away. He chuckled a bit at her face. "If he can teleport, I can't get out to the clearing fast enough. So you put your palm against the talisman, that has my blood on it, and you'll activate it. He won't see if coming. It's perfect, Mist. It's perfect."

She stared for a moment, jaw hanging, then, voice squeaking, "I don't remember if I ever said you could call me Mist."

"Can you do it?" he asked. "You don't have to. I can try. But…if you're going to be out there, I can't get out quick enough. I don't think I'll be about to do it. I think he'll see me and move way before I get close to the stone."

"I can do it," she said weakly. "But I'm not…you're the one who says when it happens. You're the one who…Sabrina's the one who's going to…"

He squeezed her hand tightly, promising, "It's not you. I'm calling the shots. It's my blood. I just…we need you to be…to be the bait, Misty. If you don't want to get hurt we'll just-"

"It's not me," she said quickly. His hand instantly dropped hers, staring. "I mean, I'm not worried about me. I don't care what happens to me."

"Then what are you worried about?" He grinned a little. "What? After all this, don't tell me you're still afraid that I'm going to screw up."

"Not you, entirely. I mean, of course I'm worried about you, Ash. I always worry about you. But…but I know, that even if everything else goes wrong, somehow, you'll come out okay. With all the stuff you go through, I _have_ to, or else I'd go _really _crazy. I'd go straight-jacket padded room crazy with all the stupid stuff you do."

His grin faltered. "Then…what are you nervous for?"

She winced. "Don't make me say it."

"Why not? There's nothing wrong with worrying o-"

"You'll get mad if I say it," she said, shaking her head. "You know who it is, don't make me say it."

It clicked into place, not just for Ash, but for Sabrina and Brock as well, that Misty was near tears not for her own safety, not her lover's, not even her friends', but for the very thing they were trying to kill. She was red faced, her head down, and looking humiliated and ashamed for it. Still, Ash couldn't find it in him to comfort her, and, even if he did, he was sure that any comfort he tried to give would only set her off in tears.

"You'll have to call him," Sabrina said, breaking the awkward silence. "Unless you think he'll show up on his own, you'll have to call him. This place has…with that talisman, perceptions change. Unless your attention is drawn to it, you'll never think of it. It's the OSOM effect."

"The Awesome Effect?" Ash asked.

Patiently, she explained, "O-S-O-M, out of sight, out of mind. It's one of the oldest psychic tricks. Even magicians can pull it off without any kind of psychic ability. Once you leave this place, you won't ever think of it again. If the talisman is strong enough, the museum won't even notice the talisman is missing."

"And Hyacinth won't come unless I call," Misty mumbled. "How do I do it? Just shout his name until he shows up?"

"If you want," Sabrina said. "You only have to think of him. I've found that those who are typically talentless in the psychic area find it easier if a physical action accompanies the psychic one."

Misty stared at the woman for a long moment, emotions twisting in her gut and making her bolder than she thought she could be, "Sabrina, you should know, just in case I die, that you're the most stuck up, cold hearted, and creepiest person I ever met, and that if I had my choice, I wouldn't have asked for your help, or talked to you or seen you until the day I die."

"And if you don't die?"

"Then I didn't mean any of it," she said, an thinking that if those words _were _her last, they were either really terrible or really deep, she strode out to the clearing.

She kneeled at the talisman, hiding the rock between her knees, and make sure her blood covered palm was clenched into a fist, so only pale skin remained in view. She drew in her guilt and sadness and worry, her happiness at being with Ash after all these years, her excitement for all of it to be over and pushed it down deep, leaving her blank. Then, shutting her eyes softly, she thought of Hyacinth. She thought of laying with him while he cried, his appearance as the star haired man, his vicious smile, the pieces of his past, and when she felt _him_, everything he was, she called, barely above a gasp, "Hyacinth."

And a voice in her ear smoothly responded, "You rang?"

She wanted to scream. The voice was not just in her ears, but in her head, she felt him. It felt like he was wading through her brain, picking out old memories she had long since forgotten, like destroying Daisy's cake when her sister turned ten, and Misty was jealous, or the first time her heart pounded when she saw Ash, the morning he first stopped trying to ditch her and offered her a bowl of cereal, not with her goading, but just as a form of acceptance. Those were private things. They were things he shouldn't see. And though pushing him from those memories could show him their plan, she did it, shoving against his mind and trying to make him leave.

"Don't hurt yourself! Come on, I'm just _looking_. What's wrong with finding out your big crush on Ash all started with him being nice to his little caterpie? He knows you've liked him since then, doesn't he? Oh, don't bother." He sat in front of her in the perfect position to trap him, and smiled just not at her, but in her mind, so her closed eyes didn't matter. "I know you haven't told him. I can tell because of that blush."

"Aren't you afraid?" she whispered, "I called you here, aren't you scared?"

Ash was hidden under Sabrina's psychic shield, and Hyacinth was nowhere near his mind, but that voice spoke again, this time again, that True Hero telling him, _You have to run out. You have to make her stop. She's going to go to his side and betray you and everyone is going to die because of you. _And he gasped at it, shocked at himself, because that little instinct that had made him kill Dawn wasn't just an _instinct _anymore. It was a _thought_.

But Hyacinth was blissfully aware of Ash's panic in the bushes. A little hand went under Misty's chin, and she opened her eyes to see a much softer smile. "Scared? Of you? Never. I was never afraid of my mother and I will never be afraid of you. Not even if you try to kill me."

"You don't even _know_ me."

"But I love you," he said softly, and kissed her cheek. "I think, if I was going to destroy everything, I'd keep you. I'd keep you and me, and this time, I'll keep you safe."

"I'm not _her_," Misty said, furious at the tears on her cheeks. "You aren't my son, and I'm not your mother. Stop _doing _that. Stop making me care."

He laughed a little. "Mama, I've done a lot of things. I've made _you _do a lot of things. But I _never _made you care."

She leaned back and gripped the rock with her bloodied hand, and the cage shot up. It was a pyramid, barely big enough for the boy to be in. He could stand, or sit. With a little bit of effort he could turn around, and, if he squinted, he could see the world around him through the opaque yellow walls of energy that kept him in. Those on the outside could see him though, clear as day they could see that smiling little face, looking absolutely delighted to be all caged up, looking like any moment lollipops were going to rain from the ceiling, or his favorite show would come on television, or his mom was going to pick him up from school.

"What am I in timeout for, Mom?" he taunted merrily. "Have I been bad?"

The shield had gripped at her. It had stolen more energy until he mind was almost gone, the thick ropes of psychic energy that bound her thoughts together shredding to threads, barely holding. It was there, still. She was nearly gone, and nearly crazy, and nearly dead, and she knew it. But that wasn't why she screamed.

She did scream. Misty gave a heartrending shriek, bursting into sobs. She curled up tight in the grass, wanting to hug her knees to her chest but her arms shook far too hard to do so. The others were almost afraid to approach, as her face was twisted with grief like a loved one had died, and each breath was so deep if sounded like she had just broke up out of the water for air after nearly drowning. Four people stared at her, three worried, and one serene, until Sabrina dared to step forward.

"Misty," she said softly. Her hand reached out, in an act of human sympathy they hadn't seen since they had met the girl, she reached out for Misty's shoulder. She got down to her hands and knees, on her level, speaking soothingly, and she _reached out_ to touch her shoulder in an act of kindness.

And Misty slapped her away with an even louder scream, though no one knew how she could possibly get louder, "Don't touch me you psychic _freak_! This is your fault you fucking bitch!" before collapsing back into sobs.

Sabrina was not deterred, and tried again, and Misty allowed it this time. The hand rested on her shoulder and she looked up at Sabrina through her tears. She begged, "Get him out, Sabrina. He was in my head. I felt him there, I felt him looking. He did something, Sabrina. He must have. Help me." She hiccupped and swallowed another cry, grabbing at the girl's wrist. "Please, it hurts so much. I feel so bad. Please take it away. Get him out of me."

"He's not in you Misty, I'm sorry."

She twisted away, stumbling to her feet and screaming, "Liar!" over and over.

"Misty, he's _not_." Sabrina's voice wasn't louder than hers, but it was even and authoritative, and it broke through the redhead's cries. "This is _you_, Misty. You care for him. There isn't a trace of him left if in you. You hurt because you care for him."

"You're not looking hard enough!" Misty grabbed Sabrina's hand, pressing it against her temple. "Look deeper. He's there. He has to be there. This can't be me. After everything he's done, I can't care about him."

"It's you," she said, shaking her head. "He didn't do it."

"But maybe it's different, because…because he's half…and I don't even care if you have to look at everything, just…"

But Sabrina's face stayed still, and without a sound, Misty curled up tight in the grass, wiping at the tears on her face, smearing Ash's blood across her cheeks and not minding in the least. Surprisingly, it was Sabrina who came to comfort her first, then Brock, but Ash walked away from the scene. He walked up to Hyacinth, that smiling little boy, and stared down at him, seething with anger and hate, and wishing he had the power to choke him through the shield.

_He has to die, _the True Hero voice said. And then, still surprisingly cold and still, surprisingly, coming from him, it continued, _Thank Mew Misty didn't mess that up._

"You wanted to be known. You wanted the credit for your work, to see and feel everything it's done," Ash whispered. He squatted in front of Hyacinth, putting them face to face. He saw a bit of himself in the tan features, those zigzags on both cheeks, the eyes so brown they looked black if you took a few steps back, and, despite his anger, he felt some sympathy too, and he shuddered to think of himself in the same place. "Well, we'll spread the word for you, but Sabrina can give you what you wanted. She'll let you feel everything."

Hyacinth thought for a moment, and then he grinned. And then he laughed. "Oh, that's _rich! _So _that's _how you'll do it! Oh, I knew you could be bad, Ash, but you've outdone yourself. Mindstripping a little boy? Ooh, where does that go in your little heroes' handbook, hmm?"

"You're not a little boy!" Ash shouted, slamming a fist against the wall he barely see. "You're a thousand years old! You're an alakazam! You've killed thousands! You've _tortured _thousands! Mew only knows the things you've done, to people who were nicer than you, and better than you, and smarter than you, and definitely younger than you. If I let you go, you'll do it again. You're _not _a little boy."

"Oh, sure I am." He bared his teeth in a grin. "I'm a little boy, I'm your _girlfriend's _little boy, and you're going to torture me. Are you really that much better, nephew?"

"You didn't even kill anyone this time. Except for Infernape." Ash's eyes narrowed. "Had to get the blood somehow, didn't you?"

He laughed. "Well, he had the same chance as everyone else. It's all _his _fault that he wasn't quick enough to get out of the way. I made that slaking nice and big and slow. If your little creature couldn't manage to get out of the way, I don't see how you can blame me for that."

"He was trying to protect us," Ash snarled, fisting clenched and shaking hard at his sides. "He gave up everything to protect us. Don't you dare try and take that away from him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your voice is cracking, Ash. Don't tell me you're going to cry."

He leaned forward, their faces just a breath away from each other's, with the shield keeping them apart, and whispered, "I've done so much. I've lost so much. And never, _never _did any of that break me. I had to go to the hospital. I was heartbroken, but I was whole. I was me. I wasn't…"

Hyacinth clicked his tongue softly, almost sympathetically. "I know, Ash. You weren't a killer. But this is how it ends. You'll remember this face. You'll remember my blood on your hands. You'll remember the scars, o great hero, until the day you're finally brave enough to put a blade against your wrists. My darling nephew, the Chosen Line goes with you and your sons, to bear the burden on the world, so try not to ruin it."

"Do it," he said icily, glaring back at Sabrina, the woman looking unwilling to step away from Misty. "Just do it.

"How many years are you going to make it, Ash?" he taunted weakly. "How old do you think you'll be? Thirty? Forty? Do you think you'll make it to eighty and then just wake up, wander on downstairs, and kill yourself so quietly Misty won't even know you're dead until she comes down for her morning coffee. How long do you think you can live with my death on your mind? How long can you live with that little voice that tells you how much easier it'll be if you kill the next bad guy you run into?"

"Shut up," he growled. "Just shut-"

"Do you think the nightmares are going to go away? Because I'm going to _scream. _I'm going to scream so loud you're never going to forget it. That's what's going to drive you to do it – to grab that gun and stick it in your mouth. You'll have a wonderful night with Misty, amazing sex, and when she has your child in her belly, all you'll think is how he'll look just like me, and you'll hear that scream, and you'll hate yourself so much you'll-"

"Sabrina!" he shouted, voice cracking. "Would you fucking do it?"

There was a hysterical laugh from inside the pyramid, and Hyacinth's head flung back, knocking against a wall with a painful sounding crack, though his laughter never stopped. Through his laughs, he choked out, "_Twinkle, twinkle, little star!_" and before he could continue with the song, he screamed. It echoed in the ears of everyone in the clearing, and then it pounded at their minds. It rocked around the globe, so that everything with a mind heard it vibrate in their skulls, so that those closest to him screamed with him, just for a moment, before it stopped as suddenly as it came.

All was quiet, but for the wind in the trees. Not a bug buzzed, not a bird sang, not a human dared to breathe in the clearing. Throughout the world things went on, and though people had dropped their bags to scream, or fell on the ground and writhed, all stood up and moved on, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Then, a few seconds later, Ash breathed, and the clearing went back to its typical buzz as well, and he stood up as if the world hadn't changed.

His eyes met Sabrina's, and he asked, "He's broken?"

"He's destroyed, Ash," Sabrina said softly.

"So…" he swallowed. "So he feels everything get hurt?"

"He feels everything, good and bad. He feels every birthday and every funeral, every feast and every famine. His mind is open to the world in a way that no living creature can handle." Sabrina closed her eyes, as if reciting from a textbook: "There is no way to get used to it. With the exception of death, there is no way to end it. Until the day he takes his own life, which I believe he has done already, he will be so overwhelmed that every moment feels like eons."

"And I saved the world, saved my friends, and got the girl. Hey, I even lost some stuff along the way. I did everything that I'm supposed to." He shoved his hands in his pockets, and set off at a stroll, not bothering to check if Pikachu or Brock or Misty or Sabrina followed. "All hail the conquering hero."

They did follow, each stopping to look at the pyramid that only they could see, that, in years gone by and Sabrina had made the cage right, if they ever had the courage to return to the spot, would be entirely imperceptible from then on. They would walk around it without knowing or asking why. They wouldn't touch it or lean on it. They wouldn't try to set down bags or start a fire, though the grass underneath would soon be dead. When the rain hit it, sliding down and away, they wouldn't even notice the strangeness of it.

There was nothing but the quiet crunch of gravel underfoot. No one spoke. No one made eye contact. Their faces were all set in grim, guilty lines, even Sabrina who most had doubted even had empathy to feel. There was a sudden scuffle, a grunt, and everyone turned around to see Misty on the ground, breathing heavy through her mouth, hands clutching the gravel so that, when she stood up later, little cuts made her hands spotted with blood.

She breathed and breathed, and everyone waited for her to cry. They waited for her to scream, or rant about how it wasn't fair, but when she spoke it was quiet and warm and kind, and she raised her head to look Ash, and only Ash, in the eye, saying with the utmost sincerity, "I want him."

He stared, barely breathing. "What?"

"Go back." Her eyes were hard on him. He was so shocked, almost angry at her, that she thought about taking it back. Then she pushed herself harder on the gravel, she felt the rocks cut and dig into her hands until she felt like screaming, and told herself that the pain wasn't anything compared to what happened a minute before, and certainly nothing to how a five year old boy would feel. Her resolve strengthened, and she hissed, "We're getting him."

Ash refused to believe it. He swallowed thickly and asked, "Who?" as if there was someone else she could possibly be talking about.

She pushed herself harder onto the gravel, shifted her knees so the gravel slid along her knees and made the pain worse, and thought again and again that the pain was nothing. That what she was doing was right. That was she was doing had to be done by her, or else no one would. "Your uncle."

"Why?"

"He's mine," she said desperately. Her heart strained at the words, and her throat tightened. She felt the small body curl up alongside her, felt the wetness seep through her shirt and onto her skin, and felt a kind a weakness and vulnerability she'd never known before. One hand came up to grab her shirt, holding the imaginary child to her. "Please, let me take him."

He tried to make sense of it still, asking, "You want to hurt him?"

"No." She shook her head, suddenly crying. "I'm supposed to be mad, but I'm not. I'm not mad at all, Ash. I just want him."

"You can't…" he began desperately. He kneeled, careful not to hurt himself, putting his hands on her cheeks and brushing her tears away. "Misty, you can't take him. He's evil, Mist. If you take him out, he'd going to kill us. He's going to kill you and me and everything you ever knew and loved. Remember that, Misty? You wanted everything dead, but you'd never do it because you loved it at the same time? Remember being crazy, Mist?"

She took one of his hands in hers, sliding it along her cheek to her lips, to kiss him softly while he felt her blood leak onto his wrist. She tried to speak, and her voice cracked and broke, so she swallowed, closing her eyes to compose herself, and tried again, begging, "Something's telling me, Ash. You know how something tells you that you have to do this? We _have_ to do this. He's not the same. He's not evil anymore."

"What do you mean, Mist?" he asked quietly. He smoothed her hair back from her face and shifted, wanting to get closer and not knowing anyway to do it. "That didn't fix him. He's not going to stop being bad now, Misty. He's either dead or he's crazy, and neither of those are good. He's too strong to let him out. We have to keep him in there until he finally dies. If not, he's just going to do evil, evil things, Mist. We have to leave him there."

She gulped. "I think he's human again."

"And if he is?" Ash retorted. "What are you going to do with him, Misty? Are you going to make him live in an orphanage? His whole world is different. He lived a thousand years ago. There's nothing here he can recognize, all his family is going. Everything he knows is gone. He's better off dead than that. He'll kill himself by thirteen if we take him out of there. He'll go _crazy, _Misty. No one will ever believe him."

"We'll believe him." She paused. "Your mother will take him."

He pulled back, and she shut her eyes, waiting for him to yell, almost expecting him to hit her for saying it. She braced for the impact, and her mind chanted that Hyacinth had hurt worse, and that it was worth it, and that it was right, but the impact never came. She opened her eyes to find Ash hadn't moved. He was staring at her, mouth open now, and he squeaked, nervously, "You want me to take him as a brother?"

"He can call Delia his mother or me," she whispered. "I don't care. I'll do it."

"You'd take him?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "If your mother didn't."

"And why?"

"He was the Chosen. What if…" She swallowed, then smiled nervously at him. "What if he still is?"

Ash leapt to his feet at that, and _now _he screamed, fists clenched at his sides. "_I'm_ the Chosen One!"

"Can't there be two?

"Chosen _One_!" he cried. "There can only be one! It's right in the name!"

"And what if he's there?" she shrieked, getting to her knees and putting her other hand on top of her heart as well. "A kid in a cage, dying. Could you live with that? I can't!"

She sobbed, hands coming up to wipe away tears, revealing the blood stained on her shirt and smearing her blood across her cheeks that were already covered in his. She didn't stand, though. She didn't come to him, or ask to be held, or beg him to take Hyacinth. She was sobbing and bloody and asking for the craziest thing he'd ever heard, and somehow he believed her. Somehow he thought she couldn't have been more beautiful than she was in that moment, smeared with dirt and sweat and tears and blood, and bawling like a baby.

He watched her for a moment, then asked, "Sabrina, and would it be safe to go back?"

"Yes."

Ash kneeled again, using his fingerless gloves to wipe her tears and blood away, and asked, "And you want to take him?"

She nodded, trying to smother her cries. "Yeah."

"You want to raise a kid?" he pressed.

She nodded again. "If that's what has to happen."

"Even if I won't help?" He raised an eyebrow.

She slapped his hand away and glared at him. "It doesn't have anything to do with you, Mr. Self Centered."

He got to his feet, taking her with him, and supporting her because her red streaked legs were shaking. He kissed her temple, and murmured in her ear, "Well, that's stupid."

'What?" she asked, blinking.

"He's my family." He put her arm around his shoulders, and began back the way he came, helping her walk to the beaten down boy. "If anyone is going to take him, it's me."

Sabrina looked at the two walking off, and asked calmly, "So, do either of you happen to remember where, exactly, it is?"

"Of course! We just came back from…from…" Ash frowned, stopping, trying to remember where he had just come from. "Well, I know we locked him up and everything. I remember that. And it was…it was around here, right? Because it just happened. So it has to be…huh."

The woman smirked and walked passed him, the three younger teens obediently following after. At some point, Sabrina kneeled, though none of them could see the previously obvious yellow pyramid, nor did they notice the talisman Sabrina put her hand against. But they trusted her, and when Sabrina called for Ash's blood once more, Ash simply peeled off the places where it was starting to scab and squeezed, his blood dripping onto the stone.

The way it came down was obvious, and far stranger than the way it came up. Blood seemed to flow down from the top of it, eroding the pyramid they could suddenly see from the top to the bottom, until there was only Hyacinth, unconscious and sprawled on the ground. For a moment, they believed he was dead, as everyone but Misty had expected, and then they saw the slow rise and fall of his chest. The redhead was about to dart forward, but Ash ripped her back.

"Sabrina, check him."

"I already am," she said calmly. "And there's no Alakazam in him, not from what I can tell. One mind, entirely whole, no battling for dominance and no mixing. He's a child."

"And he's still mindstripped?"

She frowned slightly. "No. He's not. His defenses are back. Normal, human defenses, nothing stronger than that. If he wasn't, I could put them back up without a problem. He's fine though. Like I said, he's a child. That's all he is."

"Was that…" He swallowed, trailing off.

"That's not supposed to happen, but I suppose the Alakazam could have destroyed what remained of itself using the psychic energy, leaving the boy alone, and the separation of the two minds could have caused the barriers to reappear. Mindstripping isn't done too frequently, and even when it was the person responsible usually killed themselves in a violent, physical way, with a knife or simply holding their breath."

"He could be faking it, though? To get us to let him out?"

"I can't see how he would. But even if he _did_, I don't know why he wouldn't have teleported away by now. Looking at his mind, he seems to be asleep, nearly comatose. He should wake up without medical attention, but if he was able to put up his own shields, without Alakazam's power, he'd be an incredible psychic on his own. He'd be impossibly good, and if that's the case, not even the shield would hold him for long."

Ash frowned. "So…what can we do?"

"You can make the bet that he's human, take him home, and raise him like you said." She met his eyes calmly, and continued, "or, while he's in this state, you can finish him. If you don't now, it's unlikely that you'll ever get the chance to. So you have to make the choice. Do you kill him, and kill an innocent boy, or let him live, and kill thousands of innocent people?"

"Even if he is psychic, it doesn't mean that he'll be-"

"He can't stay sane if he has power like that," Sabrina argued. "I promise, he can't."

He looked at Misty. "Do you want me to do it?"

"You know I can't make that choice, Ash," she murmured. "You know that. You have to choose."

So Ash stared down at the boy, barely breathing. He didn't see Hyacinth, the half-human half-Alakazam monster who had tried to kill himself and his friends. He didn't see a thing that had lived thousands of years, and was driven mad by time and loss and fury. He was small and weak looking, and with the power seemingly stripped from him and his eyes closed and his face smoothed of the lines of hate, Ash could only see a child there.

A hero wouldn't kill a child, would they? That True Hero voice of his, strangely, disagreed. The True Hero voice was whispering coldly, _You can't take that risk. You can't risk him having those powers and killing everything you love. You can't let the world take that hit._ Which all made sense, one boy for a million lives. And then, even more ferociously, that True Hero voice whispered, _Since you have to kill him, make it quick. Since you have to kill him, snap his neck._

And Ash instantly decided that he could not be a True Hero. He had tried to listen to that voice for too long. That voice had been the thing that drove him forward in Hyacinth's world. That voice had been the thing that saved Misty and Brock and Gary and May and Max and Dawn, yes, but it had also been the voice that made him kill Dawn. That made him plunge the knife into her stomach to save another, to not take the risk that she could be reasoned with or talked down from doing the things she did.

He couldn't do it again. He couldn't kill an innocent twice, not after the first time had almost destroyed him, not after ordering Hyacinth's death had left him feeling hollow, and left him knowing that this would haunt him for years and years, and that he _wouldn't _be surprised if Hyacinth had been right, if he rolled out of bed one morning and shot himself for it. But maybe, if he took him, it would be different. Because it would be like saving.

The only thing Ash was really good at, in the end, was saving.

So, without a look at anyone, Ash lifted the boy in his arms and began walking home. That little heart pounded quickly against his own, and he let it. When the boy seemed to wake up a little more, breathing turning deeper and moving his head to cuddle against Ash's chest. So Ash rotated him, arms under his thighs so his arms to wrap around his neck, and Ash only felt a flash of _he'll strangle me_ before his body settled.

"I _will_ take him," Misty said softly. "You don't have to. I know that you-"

"It's alright, Mist." He looked down at the boy in his arms. "I'll take him. Mom will take him, once we explain. And then…then I guess I'll have a brother. Or something. I don't think it really matters what we call him, as long as we raise him, right?"

She frowned. "You won't call him Hyacinth, will you?"

"No, but I don't know how to name a kid." He looked at the boy thoughtfully. "I don't know. Mom did a good job of naming me. Do you think she should do the honors?"

Misty gave a small nod, and onto Ash's house they went, Sabrina in tow, and sat down with Delia Ketchum. With the psychic's help, they explained the situation, and Ash's mother nodded along, at some point in the story taking the child from her son and holding him herself, spending the rest of the time looking at the boy who looked so much like her own, and vaguely like the man she'd loved and given her Ash.

And when the story was done, she smiled and smoothed his hair back. "Of course I'll take him. You have a lot ahead of you, Misty. You don't need a child now, certainly not a child with Ash's blood in him. Every Ketchum boy has been wild, I promise you." She winked, making Misty blush."You'll find out soon enough, dear. Until then, you'll help an aging woman raise her newly adopted son, won't you?"

Misty grinned at the "aging" comment because, although it was true, Delia looked a good ten years younger than she was, and acted a good twenty years younger. In that motherly way she held the boy, and that motherly way she smiled at Ash, she patted Misty's knee and told her, "You're all bloody dear. Why don't you go wash up?"

"Well, you…aren't you going to name him?" she asked worriedly.

Delia looked at her for a moment, then asked, "I'm not sure. Did you have anything in mind?"

She gulped nervously, mumbling, "I think…I think Sirius is nice."

"Sirius Ketchum?" she repeated, then chuckled to herself. "A bit of an oxymoron, don't you think?"

Misty smiled weakly. "It's…it's the name of a star. That's why I thought of it. Because it's the name of a star."

"It's a beautiful name," Delia assured her. "Sirius Ketchum."

After a while, Sirius woke up, claiming to have no memory of who he was, or who he had been, or what he'd done. He seemed to be wiped clean, with only little touches of memory where he claimed that he knew how to make traps to hunt, and was very confused when they explained things like grocery stores and television. It didn't take him too long to get used to it. Within the hour he was calling Delia "mom", and darting around the house like he'd been there forever.

Pikachu seemed happy enough to play with him, allowing the boy to chase him around the house, and giving him tiny zaps if her ever got to rough. And, though Sirius certainly had a mean streak, he didn't seem like a psychopath. He didn't seem a danger to those around them, and Ash began to relax. Brock went home, then Misty, who promised she would visit every weekend, and Ash enjoyed his time with both his girlfriend, his pokémon, he mother, and even his new brother.

All in all, Ash believed he made a good decision. And, after some time, he was even happy enough that he volunteered to take him up to bed, to tuck him in. He got into the same bed with the little boy, his little brother, and ruffled his hair and settled him when Sirius claimed he wanted to go outside and play, to say he wasn't tired yet. Ash shook his hand at his adoptive brother's rambunctiousness, and said, "Well, you'll be tired in a few minutes."

Sirius smiled, little fingers wrapping gently around Ash's much bigger hand. He tugged softly, so that, Ash, half smiling himself, sat in bed with him and put his arms around his brother's shoulders, pulling him close, and laying down like they were both about to sleep. The little boy eagerly snuggled into Ash's broad chest, breathing deep and slow as he tried to sleep, but every so often opening his eyes and looking around like he was still far too restless.

"You okay?"

What Sirius said next made Ash's heart stop, arm tightening around the boy so that he yelped and squirmed from the pain, until he managed to wiggle his way out of his brother's arms and run down the hall, screaming for his mother like he had done so a thousand times before. Because that face that nearly looked like a picture of himself from years gone by, that smile that was his right after he pulled an especially good prank, and those eyes looking less and less like his own by the second, looked right up at him and inquired in a sickly sweet voice: "Will you sing _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star _to me?"

* * *

That's that. I want to think it ended happily, that Sirius singing that was a coincidence, that he wasn't psychic and that he was normal and that they had a great life. But that's not necessarily true. And you know what? You're not wrong if you think it _isn't _true. Me being the author doesn't mean I'm right, in the end. Because it's online, and it's out of my hands, and it's into your heads, and I can't do a damn thing about what you think.

You guys who read this, whether you read it years after it's done or just when I put up the chapter, thank you so much for sticking with this until the end. Thanks to those people who reviewed every chapter, who wondered what this story was going to be and helped me edit when I did things horribly wrong. Honestly, I could never ask for more than what you all do. I can't explain how happy it makes me to know that you _enjoyed _this, that this made your day a little better.

And bonus points to the person who gets why I chose Sirius, out of all the other stars I could have. Though, be warned, if you say Harry Potter, I may have to come to your house, hunt you down, and Avada Kadavra you.

Hugs and Love,  
Natty


End file.
